iifllii 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OF 

"rs.  Ben  3.  Lindsey 


"  The  men  xecmed  more  boyish  than  the  boys  themselves 


THE  TRAIL 
A  BOY  TRAVELS 

And  Other  Stories 


BY 
HERVEY   SMITH    McCOWAN 


association 

NEW  YORK:     124  EAST  28TH  STREET 
LONDON:  47  PATERNOSTER  Row,  E.G. 
1916 


COPYRIGHT,  1916 
by  KATHARINE  McCowAN 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

I.  THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 1 

II.  THE  LETTER  HE  WAS  ASHAMED  OF    41 

III.  THE  SON  THOU  GAVEST  ME 67 

IV.  THE    HAPPIEST    WOMAN    IN    THE 

WORLD 81 

V.  THE  GUESTS  OF  THE  HOUSE 103 

VI.  THE  STRANGER'S  STORY 131 

VII.  WHAT  WILL  A  FATHER   GIVE   FOR 

His  SONS? 149 

VIII.  THE  DOCTOR'S  FIGHT 159 

IX.  THE  HUNTERS 181 

X.  THE  GARDENS  OF  HEAVEN  . .          .  201 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

"The  men  seemed  more  boyish  than  the  boys  them- 
selves"  Frontispiece 

"One  night  we  stood  under  the  walnut  tree  by  the 
fountain" 37 

"Mother  of  mine,  at  home  in  your  old  rocker" ...     61 

"Her  eyes  looked  up  into  mine,  and  implored  me 

not  to  go" 75 

"Without  effort  or  excitement  she  began  to  sing" .     97 

"I  just  sucked  in  my  breath,  and  stared  after  the 

retreating  figure" 107 

"I  lifted  the  stock  to  my  breast  and  put  my  little 

hand  inside  the  guard" 145 

"Then  he  knelt  by  the  large  office  chair  and  put 

his  face  in  his  hands" 153 

"I  started  toward  her,  but  stopped" 171 

"Looking  wistfully  at  a  piece  of  low  pasture  land 
just  over  her  fence" 215 


THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 


THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

MY  friend  and  I  had  been  brought  up  in 
the  same  town.  We  knew  each  other  as 
.  boys  know  boys.  He  came  of  a  fine  family,  and 
his  training  was  everything  one  could  wish. 
But  he  grew  wild  without  apparent  reason. 
His  friends  were  alarmed.  They  talked  with 
him  without  effect,  and  he  went  his  own  way, 
which  seemed  to  us  to  be  down  hill,  with  the 
hill  greased  to  the  bottom.  But  suddenly  he 
stopped  and  came  back.  He  finished  his  edu- 
cation and  went  into  business.  I  entered  the 
professions  and  we  saw  nothing  of  each  other 
for  many  a  day,  but  I  knew  of  his  achievements. 
He  climbed  higher  and  higher  in  business  enter- 
prise until  at  forty  he  was  among  those  at  the 
top,  and  when  the  Government  made  its  in- 
vestigations it  found  no  stain  on  his  name  or 
in  his  affairs. 

I  had  not  seen  him  for  many  years,  until  one 
morning  as  the  train  sped  across  the  plains  of 
Colorado,  I  met  him  in  the  aisle  of  a  Pullman. 
He  had  changed  little.  He  had  grown  stouter, 
perhaps,  and  gray  hair  showed  at  the  temples. 

Copyright,  1914,  by  Hervey  S.  McCowan 
3 


4  THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

He  was  going  to  look  over  a  branch  line  in 
which  his  company  had  an  interest,  and  he 
asked  me  to  go  with  him.  For  a  week  we  were 
together,  watching  the  grading  crews,  the  mule 
skinners,  the  steam  shovels  and  the  track  layers; 
or  we  explored  the  country,  examining  the  land 
and  water,  estimating  their  productive  value  for 
settlers  who  were  to  feed  the  road  with  freight 
and  passengers  in  the  years  to  come;  or  we 
took  a  car  and  followed  the  staked  survey  for  a 
hundred  miles,  and  when  we  were  hungry  we 
ate  of  the  plain,  but  delicious,  fare  of  roast  and 
potatoes  and  gravy  and  canned  tomatoes  and 
corn,  with  prunes  or  dried  peaches  for  dessert. 
We  drank  coffee  as  black  as  tar,  and  almost  as 
thick.  At  night  we  slept  at  the  camp,  in  box 
cars,  or  on  the  open  range  with  a  lariat  rope 
circled  around  us  to  ward  off  the  snakes.  Some- 
times we  would  lie  for  hours  watching  the  stars, 
which  hung  so  low  that  we  could  almost  touch 
them  with  our  fingers,  and  the  "man  in  the 
moon"  swooped  down  and  smiled  at  us  in  his 
friendly  way,  as  he  does  sometimes  on  the 
plains  and  the  deserts.  At  other  times  we 
talked  of  old  days  and  old  scenes  and  old  friends 
at  home.  It  was  on  our  last  night  out  that  he 
told  me  this  story.  The  experiences  of  man- 
hood had  been  swept  away  and  all  the  years 
forgotten.  We  talked  as  we  had  talked  when 


THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS  5 

boys  with  life  before  us.  It  grew  late.  The 
moon  was  low  in  the  west  and  we  were  about 
to  go  to  sleep,  when  he  turned  to  me  and  said: 
"Mac,  there  is  one  phase  of  my  life  that  I  have 
never  told,  but  I  would  like  to  tell  you,  because 
you  lecture  and  write;  and  if  the  occasion  should 
come  when  you  can  use  it,  I  should  be  glad  to 
have  you  do  so  for  the  good  it  may  do,  but  I 
wish  you  would  not  use  my  name." 

THE   STORY 

He  lay  still,  thinking,  for  many  minutes,  and 
then  said:  "You  remember  when  I  was  a  boy  I 
got  started  wrong.  As  I  look  back  upon  those 
days  I  am  frightened  cold.  I  don't  understand 
them.  Some  perverse  spirit  within  me  rebelled 
against  advice,  or  good  influence,  or  warning. 
I  wanted  freedom  to  do  as  I  pleased,  to  go  where 
I  pleased,  and  to  choose  the  friends  I  pleased. 
Restraint  angered  me,  criticism  from  good  peo- 
ple aroused  my  bitterest  resentment,  and  I 
turned  my  face  from  everything  wholesome  and 
started  on  the  road  to  destruction. 

"At  first  I  was  in  the  frame  of  mind  where  I 
would  'try  anything  once/  and  having  tried  it 
once,  would  try  it  again  if  it  pleased  me.  I 
didn't  understand  the  mood  then,  and  I  don't 
now.  No  one  understands  a  boy  at  that  period, 
from  fourteen  to  eighteen.  He  doesn't  under- 


6  THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

stand  himself.  Yet  it  is  the  most  crucial  period 
of  our  lives. 

We  have  no  anchor. 

We  have  no  moorings. 

We  have  no  standard  of  judgment. 

We  have  no  established  characters. 

Novelties  appeal. 

Temptations  tempt. 

Crimes  call. 

Sins  seduce. 

Appetites  hunger. 

Thirsts  crave. 

Passions  boil. 

"All  in  a  caldron  together  they  seethe  in  the 
boy  who  is  not  man  enough  yet  to  see  where  they 
lead  or  what  they  will  do  to  his  life.  And, 
worst  of  all,  at  that  period  there  are  mysteries 
of  physical  change  within  him  which  make  him 
secret  in  his  thoughts  and  acts.  The  new 
things  he  learns  he  wants  to  learn  alone  or 
with  his  boon  companions — and  who  are  his 
companions?  This  is  the  great  question  of  the 
boy's  world. 

THE   CIGAKETTE 

"I  can  remember  as  if  it  were  yesterday 
the  first  cigarette.  I  had  watched  older  boys, 
with  the  flourish  and  pride  of  the  beginner,  roll 
a  cigarette,  place  it  between  their  lips,  take  a 


THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS  7 

match,  scratch  it  on  their  pants,  and  light  up. 
It  appeared  like  an  achievement  to  be  envied, 
but  in  my  career  I  had  not  got  quite  to  it,  until 
one  night  my  chum  and  I  were  going  to  town, 
and  he  pulled  a  sack  of  tobacco  and  package  of 
paper  from  his  pocket  and  winked  at  me.  We 
didn't  go  into  town.  We  turned  into  his  father's 
barn.  With  a  good  deal  of  trouble  we  rolled 
two  cigarettes,  lighted  them  and  began  to  smoke. 
It  was  not  pleasant,  and  only  vanity  made  us 
continue.  When  our  cigarettes  were  half  con- 
sumed, someone  near  the  house  either  saw  the 
light  or  smelled  the  smoke,  and  started  for  the 
barn.  We  heard  steps,  threw  our  cigarettes 
away,  ran  out  of  the  barn  and  down  the  alley, 
and  started  for  town.  We  had  hardly  got  to  the 
main  street  when  the  fire  bell  rang.  We  fol- 
lowed the  engine  and  found  the  barn  in  flames. 
They  saved  the  carriage  horse,  but  everything 
else  was  destroyed. 

"That  frightened  us  and  I  think  prevented 
my  smoking  cigarettes,  and  to  this  day  I  never 
see  one,  or  smell  the  odor,  that  I  do  not  think 
of  the  night  we  burned  up  a  thousand  dollars* 
worth  of  property  for  my  friend's  father.  After- 
wards the  old  man  lost  all  he  had  and  died. 
The  boy  got  wild  and  the  widow  was  very 
poor.  When  I  began  to  prosper  I  sent  her  the 
money  with  interest.  She  never  knew  where  it 


8 

came  from,  but  with  it  she  started  a  little 
bakery  and  made  a  living  and  more.  I  have 
told  you  this  to  show  how  boys  do  things  in 
secret.  It  is  strange  that  at  that  age  we  do 
those  things  that  we  dare  not  boast  of  among 
good  people. 

THE  LIE 

"The  druggist  told  someone  about  George's 
buying  cigarette  tobacco  at  his  store.  George's 
father  learned  of  it  and  questioned  George.  He 
denied  it.  His  father  came  to  mine  and  told 
him  we  were  together  that  night.  My  father 
called  me  into  his  office  after  school  and  talked 
to  me.  I  acknowledged  that  we  were  together, 
but  lied  to  him  about  the  smoking.  He  be- 
lieved me  because  I  had  always  been  truthful. 
It  had  been  my  one  redeeming  trait;  up  to  that 
time  I  would  tell  the  truth,  no  matter  what 
calamity  might  follow. 

"I  had  a  fine  father.  He  had  lived  in  the 
community  a  long  time  and  had  lived  so  clean 
that  he  had  won  a  reputation  for  probity  and 
honor.  I  had  often  heard  him  say,  'No  man 
is  lost  until  he  becomes  a  liar.'  Remorse  over 
my  other  deeds  had  not  bothered  me  much,  but 
this  lie  lay  on  my  conscience.  I  went  to  George 
and  begged  him  to  tell  his  father  all  about  it 
and  let  me  tell  mine,  but  he  refused.  He  was 


THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS  9 

afraid  of  the  punishment.  He  swore  me  to 
silence,  and  my  father  never  knew.  I  would 
have  told  him  in  later  years,  but  that  I  feared 
he  would  pay  the  loss,  and  I  wanted  to  do  it 
myself.  But  when  I  had  left  home  and  was  in 
business,  one  day  I  received  a  wire  that  my 
father  was  very  sick.  I  took  the  first  train.  I 
.wanted  to  see  him  while  he  was  still  conscious 
and  confess  to  him  about  that  lie.  But  I  was 
too  late.  He  never  knew. 

THE   OATH 

"When  a  boy  has  been  brought  up  right  he 
does  not  do  wrong  naturally.  It  is  an  effort 
for  him  at  first.  Something  restrains  him,  and 
when  with  evil  companions  he  dodges  and 
avoids  actual  evil  until  some  occasion  draws  him 
in.  I  remember  how  I  felt  about  swearing. 
Although  I  had  companions  who  often  used 
profanity,  it  shocked  me  when  I  heard  it  and 
I  tried  to  avoid  its  use.  But  when  the  occa- 
sion came,  the  vocabulary  had  become  so  fa- 
miliar to  me  from  my  associates  that  I  swore 
like  a  pirate  robbed  of  his  gold. 

"The  boys  of  my  age  used  to  box  sometimes 
after  school  in  the  rear  of  a  livery  barn.  It 
was  great  sport,  fine  exercise,  and  was  good 
for  us;  but  there  was  a  'bully'  around  the  barn 


10          THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

who  used  to  make  us  put  on  the  gloves  with 
him.  He  was  much  taller  and  heavier  than  we 
and  had  long  arms  and  could  reach  us  before 
we  could  get  near  him.  All  of  us  had  been 
beaten  up  by  him.  We  had  discussed  him  and 
what  we  would  do  with  him  a  good  many 
times,  but  had  not  quite  come  to  a  conclusion 
when  the  explosion  came.  We  had  met  at  the 
barn  on  a  Tuesday  afternoon,  and  were  pulling 
our  coats  when  the  bully  showed  up.  'Hello 
there,  Bud/  he  said  to  me.  'I've  got  just  ten 
minutes  to  put  a  black  eye  on  you.' 

*  'I'm  not  going  to  box  with  you,'  I  said. 
'You  are  not  my  size.' 

'You  will  never  be  a  man  till  you  lick  a 
man;  put  on  the  gloves,'  he  said. 

'  'I'll  box  anyone  of  my  weight  or  size/  I 
came  back  at  him,  'but  I'm  not  going  to  take 
a  black  eye  just  to  please  a  bully.' 

'  'A  bully,  is  it!'  he  said  and  grabbed  me. 
He  got  his  hands  into  my  hair  and  threw  me 
on  the  barn  floor.  I  jumped  up  and  swore  at 
him  as  naturally  as  if  I'd  been  swearing  all  of 
my  life.  The  whole  vocabulary  of  profanity 
came  to  me  as  if  I  had  been  trained  to  it.  The 
bully  ran  at  me  again.  I  dodged  and  snatched 
up  a  stone  and  warned  him  not  to  touch  me. 
He  didn't  stop  and  I  threw  the  rock  straight 
into  the  pit  of  his  stomach.  He  turned  snow 


THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS          11 

white  and  doubled  up.  Someone  sent  for  a 
doctor  and  we  boys  faded  away.  I  was  not 
sure  I  had  not  killed  him,  but  that  was  not 
what  frightened  me.  It  was  the  memory  of 
my  profanity  which  terrified  me.  All  night  I 
could  not  sleep.  I  expected  God  to  strike  the 
house  with  lightning  and  destroy  us  all.  I 
prayed  'without  ceasing'  that  night,  if  I  never 
did  again,  and  was  astonished  to  find  the  sun 
shining  on  a  live  family  on  the  morning  of 
another  day.  For  a  few  days  the  doctor  feared 
the  bully  might  die.  Somehow  his  condition 
did  not  terrify  me,  but  it  was  a  long  time 
before  I  could  think  of  that  profanity  without 
feeling  cold  with  fear. 

\ 

THE   GAME 

"One  wrong  leads  to  another  so  easily  that  a 
boy  soon  has  a  bouquet  of  evil  deeds  to  his 
credit,  and  conditions  smooth  the  way  for 
him.  That  was  true  with  me. 

"My  mother  was  called  to  see  a  sick  sister, 
and  while  she  was  gone  I  was  invited  to  spend 
an  evening  with  some  neighbor  boys.  Their 
father  and  mother  had  gone  to  a  lodge  ban- 
quet. We  were  left  to  our  own  devices  for 
amusement.  The  boys  suggested  a  game  of 
cards.  I  knew  the  cards,  but  not  much  about 


12          THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

the  game.  They  showed  me  and  I  won  several 
times.  They  suggested  that  we  put  up  a  little 
money  to  make  the  game  interesting.  I  hesi- 
tated at  first.  I  didn't  have  much  money,  but 
my  father  had  insisted  on  my  carrying  some 
always,  so  that  I  might  learn  to  take  care  of 
money  without  spending  it,  and  as  a  precaution 
against  being  without  money  in  any  emergency, 
but  I  never  carried  much. 

"Finally  I  consented  and  we  bet  small 
amounts.  At  first  I  won  and  got  the  gam- 
bler's fever.  Then  I  lost,  then  won  again. 
Then  I  began  to  lose  and  continued  to  lose 
until  my  money  was  gone. 

"The  boys  hurrahed  me  and  laughed  at  me, 
and  yet  it  did  not  occur  to  me  that  they  had 
'framed  it  all  up'  to  clean  my  pockets. 

"I  wanted  to  win  that  money  back.  My 
father,  like  a  prudent  man,  had  a  habit  of 
calling  for  an  accounting  occasionally.  He  was 
not  unreasonably  strict,  but  in  a  general  way 
knew  how  much  I  was  spending  and  what  I 
spent  it  for. 

"One  of  the  boys  offered  to  lend  me  a  dollar 
to  play  with.  I  took  it  and  we  began  over.  It 
was  the  old  story.  They  soon  had  that  dollar, 
too,  and  I  was  in  debt.  I  had  never  owed  a 
dollar  before.  My  father  had  warned  me 
against  debts  of  every  kind. 


THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS          13 

THE   SONG   AND    STORY 

"The  boys  became  hilarious  over  their  win- 
nings and  the  successful  trap  they  had  laid  for 
me.  I  became  reckless  over  my  loss.  We  sang 
songs  and  told  stories.  At  first  they  were  such 
songs  as  we  might  have  sung  in  a  school  crowd. 
Then  they  became  tainted  and  vulgar. 

"Stories  followed.  They,  too,  were  all  right 
at  first;  then  they  became  coarse  and  coarser 
until  they  were  nauseous,  and  when  I  went 
home  that  night  I  felt  stained  and  soiled  and 
filthy. 

THE   THIEF 

"But  the  end  was  not  yet.  I  didn't  know 
how  to  get  the  money  to  pay  the  gambling 
debt.  Soon  the  boy  from  whom  I  had  borrowed 
asked  me  for  it.  I  told  him  I  would  have  it 
within  a  few  days.  I  didn't  get  it.  He  asked 
me  again.  One  of  his  friends  said  a  boy  who 
would  not  pay  a  'debt  of  honor'  like  that  was  a 
crook.  I  promptly  knocked  him  down.  The 
boy  from  whom  I  borrowed  threatened  that  if 
I  did  not  get  it  for  him  that  week  he  would  go 
to  father  and  tell  him  that  I  owed  him  a  dollar 
for  a  gambling  debt. 

"The  next  temptation  came  like  bread  to  a 
hungry  man.  I  left  the  boys  on  the  street  and 
went  to  father's  office.  Father  was  out,  but  on 


14          THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

his  desk  were  four  dollars  and  a  note  from  the 
gentleman  who  had  left  them,  saying  he  was 
leaving  three  dollars  to  'apply  on  account.' 
There  was  the  money;  the  one  dollar  I  needed, 
and  not  a  person  could  know.  I  picked  up  the 
dollar  and  put  it  in  my  pocket,  then  I  took  it 
out  and  looked  at  it.  A  hot  flush  passed 
through  my  whole  body,  and  I  said:  'Well, 
Frank,  you  are  a  thief — just  a  common  thief.' 

"I  went  over  to  the  desk  and  laid  the  money 
back  with  its  mates. 

"Father  came  in  later  and  I  drew  his  atten- 
tion to  the  mistake.  He  looked  at  me  with  a 
pleased  smile  and  said:  'So  it  is;  I  will  mail  the 
dollar  back.'  On  my  way  home  that  night  I 
had  a  mixed  feeling  of  fear  and  pleasure. 

"There  were  some  carpenters  building  a  house 
on  our  street.  I  watched  them  and  finally  in- 
quired if  they  could  use  a  boy  after  school 
hours.  They  asked  if  I  could  lath. 

"  'Well,'  I  replied,  'I  can  learn.' 

"  'We  need  some  help  in  lathing,'  they  said. 

"I  watched  the  lather  awhile  and  then  picked 
up  a  lathing  hatchet  and  laid  a  few  laths  slowly. 
Soon  I  learned  to  carry  the  nails  in  my  mouth 
and  turn  them  with  my  tongue  so  that  they 
would  come  with  the  right  end  to  my  fingers. 
I  learned  to  send  the  nail  with  a  tap  and  a 
drive  into  the  head,  and  with  one  stroke  to 


THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS          15 

trim  a  lath  as  if  it  had  been  shaved  with  a 
chisel,  and  to  remember  to  break  joints  every 
eighth  lath. 

"Well,  by  the  end  of  the  week  I  had  paid  my 
debt  and  had  change  in  my  pocket.  That  ex- 
perience sobered  me  a  little,  but  not  enough  to 
make  me  break  with  my  associates  and  start 
over. 

THE   DRINK 

"The  next  year  the  boys  in  the  High  School 
had  a  football  team.  I  belonged  to  it.  We 
played  all  the  schools  of  our  size  in  our  part  of 
the  state  and  hadn't  lost  a  game.  We  were 
invited  to  play  the  city  team.  We  trained 
hard.  We  dieted  and  kept  better  hours  at 
night.  We  were  in  prime  condition,  and  ex- 
pected to  win  that  game.  We  had  had  new 
banners  made  and  a  new  song  of  triumph  writ- 
ten to  be  sung  on  the  way  home.  We  never  had 
a  doubt,  but  they  beat  us. 

"I  never  shall  forget  the  humiliation  of  that 
defeat  and  of  what  followed.  When  we  went 
to  the  gymnasium  to  dress  after  the  game  we 
were  bruised  and  sore  in  body,  and  our  pride 
was  wounded  to  the  core.  The  captain  and 
quarterback  threw  their  arms  around  each  other 
and  cried  like  children.  I  think  the  rest  of  us 
did  the  same.  And  as  misfortune  would  have  it, 


16          THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

our  train  for  home  was  three  hours  late,  so  that 
instead  of  returning  at  eight  o'clock,  we  did 
not  return  until  eleven.  The  boys  of  the  team 
we  had  played  wanted  to  entertain  us.  After 
supper  we  sat  in  the  lobby  of  the  hotel  and 
discussed  the  important  plays.  Then  some  one 
suggested  a  game  of  cards  upstairs.  We  went  up 
and  played  for  an  hour,  when  one  of  our  boys 
came  in.  He  had  been  drinking.  He  was  a 
boy  who  had  never  touched  liquor  before.  He 
produced  a  bottle  and  passed  it  around.  Most 
of  the  boys  at  first  let  it  go  by  without  drinking. 
But  those  who  had  taken  some  seemed  to  forget 
their  troubles  and  became  funny  and  begged  us 
to  drink  and  forget.  Some  of  the  boys  refused, 
but  I  didn't,  and  soon  my  wounded  pride  over 
the  defeat  was  drowned  in  reckless  happiness. 

"About  ten  o'clock  one  of  the  city  boys  sug- 
gested that  'we  take  in  the  town/  but  as  we 
were  about  to  go  out,  our  teacher,  who  had 
come  with  us,  but  who  had  been  invited  to  a 
friend's  house,  returned.  He  understood  the 
situation  at  once.  He  took  us  in  hand  and 
prevented  a  worse  disgrace  from  falling  upon  us. 

"That  was  the  first  drink,  but  it  was  not 
the  last  for  some  of  us,  and  our  imaginations 
had  been  aroused  for  other  things. 

"That  winter,  as  I  look  back  upon  it,  has 
been  a  nightmare  to  me  for  twenty-five  years. 


THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS          17 

We  danced  down  the  line  of  reckless  delight, 
doing  those  things  which  certain  men  did,  striv- 
ing to  be  men,  but  not  gentlemen.  We  broke 
our  parents'  hearts  by  the  dance  we  led,  and 
some  of  us  danced  over  the  line  and  never  came 
back.  My  own  salvation  from  a  life  of  shame 
was  a  miracle,  and  in  it  I  find  the  only  reason 
for  telling  you  this  story. 

THE   STRANGE   WOMAN 

"From  the  day  of  our  football  defeat  we 
boys  had  thought  of  the  invitation  to  'take  in 
the  town/  The  lost  game  was  forgotten  after 
awhile,  but  that  invitation  was  not  forgotten. 
At  first  we  spoke  of  it  when  several  were  to- 
gether. Then  George  and  I  talked  of  it  and 
planned  to  go,  but  always  I  had  a  feeling, 
which  grew  stronger  as  I  dwelt  upon  it,  that  if 
I  should  go  I  wanted  to  go  alone.  Circum- 
stances often  adjust  themselves  to  lend  con- 
venience to  evil  deeds.  They  did  for  me. 

"My  mother  had  been  called  again  to  see  her 
sick  sister.  She  wrote  father  when  she  expected 
to  return  and  he  planned  to  meet  her  in  the 
city.  Some  business  demanded  his  presence  at 
home,  and  he  asked  if  I  could  go  in  his  stead. 
He  wrote  out  instructions  and  told  me  carefully 
what  to  do,  and  said  while  waiting  for  the 
train  I  might  go  to  the  opera. 


18          THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

"That  seemed  the  opportunity  I  had  been 
waiting  for.  My  imagination  was  excited  and 
it  became  more  so  as  the  train  approached  the 
city.  Fortunately  it  was  yet  light  when  we 
arrived.  I  started  for  a  cafe  to  get  supper 
when  I  met  Tom  Holland,  one  of  the  city  foot- 
ball boys.  He  had  been  one  who  had  not  drunk 
anything  the  night  of  the  game.  He  was  a 
fine,  straight,  clean-cut  boy  with  a  strong  face 
and  clear  eye.  He  recognized  me  at  once  and 
seemed  glad  to  see  me.  He  asked  what  I  was 
doing  in  the  city.  I  told  him. 

"  'Oh,  that's  jolly,'  he  said.  'You  have  lots 
of  time  and  can  go  with  me.  There  is  to  be 
"A  Father  and  Son"  dinner  at  the  Young  Men's 
Christian  Association.  We  shall  be  just  in 
time.' 

"I  tried  to  avoid  it,  and  told  him  that  I  was 
going  to  the  opera. 

'You  will  have  plenty  of  time  after  dinner,' 
he  exclaimed.  'You  won't  have  to  stay  for  the 
speaking,  but  the  funniest  man  in  town  is  to  be 
there,  and  the  United  States  Prosecuting  At- 
torney and  the  most  brilliant  preacher  we  have. 
It  would  be  too  bad  to  miss  them,  but  if  you 
think  you  can't  stay  you  can  leave  after  the  re- 
freshments. It's  a  new  thing  and  has  stirred 
up  the  town.  We  have  planned  to  have  one 
thousand  men  and  boys.  Come  on.  It's  an 


THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS          19 

event  and  you  will  see  the  biggest  people  in  the 
city/ 

"His  enthusiasm  was  contagious,  and  he  had 
thrown  a  veil  over  my  evil  imagination.  He 
hailed  a  car  and  within  a  few  minutes  we  were 
in  the  cloakroom  of  the  Association  building, 
where  we  left  our  overcoats  and  hats.  So  the 
.  Strange  Woman  had  to  wait. 

THE   MIRACLE 

"Tom's  father  was  waiting  for  us,  and  we 
went  into  the  banquet  hall.  We  had  splendid 
seats,  and  while  we  waited  we  had  time  to 
watch  the  crowd.  It  was  a  scene  I  have  never 
forgotten:  fathers  and  sons  sat  side  by  side. 
At  first  the  significance  of  it  did  not  appear  to 
me.  Then  I  noticed  a  distinguished-looking 
man,  and  when  I  looked  at  his  son  I  saw  that 
all  the  features  of  the  father  were  in  the  boy, 
and  what  the  father  was  the  boy  ought  to  be- 
come. I  pointed  it  out  to  Tom  and  asked  who 
the  gentleman  was.  He  was  the  editor  of  a 
prominent  daily  paper.  I  had  heard  of  him 
all  my  life  as  one  of  the  most  influential  men 
in  the  state. 

"We  began  to  compare  other  fathers  and  sons, 
and  we  saw  in  many  the  same  striking  resem- 
blance. It  was  a  remarkable  assemblage.  I 
had  never  seen  so  many  strong,  clean  men 


20          THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

together,  and  I  wished  that  my  father  were 
there  with  me.  Then  I  remembered  how  many 
times  people  had  told  me  that  I  was  the  picture 
of  him.  A  warm  glow  filled  my  heart  as  I 
thought  of  him,  and  I  said,  'There  is  not  a 
finer  man  in  this  hall,  nor  in  this  city,  nor  in 
the  state  either,  than  my  own  father,'  and  for 
the  first  time  I  began  to  see  him  as  he  was. 

"The  chairman  called  us  to  order.  Some  one 
offered  prayer  and  we  began  our  supper.  It 
was  not  a  royal  banquet.  It  was  a  simple 
evening  meal,  such  as  we  might  have  had  at 
home.  Men  and  boys  joked  and  laughed  and 
ate  and  enjoyed  it.  The  men  seemed  more 
boyish  than  the  boys  themselves,  which  was  a 
surprise  to  the  boys. 

"We  were  hardly  through  when  the  chairman 
announced  'a  quartet  of  Daughters  and  Sisters 
will  sing  to  the  Fathers  and  Brothers.'  The 
girls  came  in  dressed  in  gingham  with  their  hair 
hanging  in  two  braids,  pulled  over  their  shoul- 
ders. This  had  been  a  surprise  of  the  program 
committee.  They  sang  home  songs  and  were 
called  back  over  and  over.  One  of  them  was 
Tom's  sister,  whom  I  came  to  know  better. 

"The  funny  man  spoke  and  convulsed  us  with 
mirth,  though  I  do  not  remember  much  of  his 
address. 

"The  address  I  do  remember  was  that  of  the 


21 

Prosecuting  Attorney.  His  subject  was:  'My 
Boys  in  the  Penitentiary,  or  How  Men  Become 
Criminals.'  He  did  not  tell  us  anything  about 
the  method  of  the  Government  in  catching  and 
convicting  criminals.  He  told  us  the  stories  of 
men  who  had  been  convicted  and  what  they 
had  confessed  to  him,  either  before  or  after 
conviction. 

"The  beginning  of  each  career  was  much  like 
the  others.  They  began  first  on  the  street  at 
night  with  evil  associates,  then  cigarettes,  pro- 
fanity, drinking,  gambling,  lying,  and  immoral 
women.  As  he  told  story  after  story  of  men 
whose  lives  and  opportunities  had  been  lost  be- 
hind prison  bars,  it  seemed  to  me  that  he  was 
talking  to  me.  All  the  wild  things  I  had  done 
and  thought  were  what  the  criminals  had  done 
and  thought  at  the  beginning  of  their  careers 
of  crime.  I  was  appalled  and  I  saw  the  path 
I  had  been  traveling  as  I  had  never  seen  it 
before. 

"When  the  speaker  had  finished  there  was 
no  applause.  We  were  too  deeply  stirred  for 
expression.  Many  eyes  were  wet,  and  what 
followed  opened  the  flood  gates. 

"The  chairman  announced  'a  chorus  of  Wives 
and  Mothers  will  sing  to  the  Husbands  and 
Sons.' 

"They  came  in,  dressed  in  long-sleeved  calico 


22          THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

kitchen  aprons  over  their  gowns,  and  sang, 
'Throw  Out  the  Life  Line;'  that  was  enough  to 
melt  us.  Then  someone  called  for  'Where  Is 
My  Wandering  Boy  To-night?' 

"That  broke  us  up.  I  believe  there  was  not 
a  dry  eye  in  the  house  and  many  sobbed  out- 
right. The  singers  themselves  broke  down  and 
left  the  room. 

"That  was  the  climax.  After  we  had  recov- 
ered a  little  a  young  minister  spoke  on  the 
subject,  'The  Footprints  of  the  Father.'  He 
was  a  wonderful  speaker,  but  I  remember  most 
distinctly  the  story  he  told,  which  was  after- 
ward used  by  Sam  Jones. 

"A  certain  man  had  said  that  he  could  live 
without  God;  that  he  was  sufficient  unto  him- 
self, and  would  live  and  do  as  he  pleased  within 
the  law  of  the  land.  He  followed  his  declaration 
in  practice.  He  smoked  what  he  pleased  and 
as  much  as  he  pleased;  he  drank  beer,  then 
whiskey,  then  alcohol;  he  swore  often;  he 
gambled  much;  he  scoffed  at  God  and  religion, 
and  there  were  stories  of  wild  orgies  in  the  city 
when  he  shipped  his  fat  stock  there;  and  with  it 
all  he  seemed  to  prosper  in  business. 

"One  winter  day  a  drifting  storm  blew.  He 
came  in  late  and  found  the  snow  banked  along 
the  path  from  the  house  to  the  barn.  He  went 
in  and  put  on  dry  clothes  and  started  to  the 


THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS  23 

barn  to  feed.  When  half  way  he  heard  some- 
one behind  him,  and,  looking  back,  he  saw  his 
little  boy  taking  great  strides,  trying  to  step  in 
the  tracks  of  his  father. 

"  'Better  run  back,  sonny;  the  snow  is  too 
deep  for  you,'  he  said. 

"The  child  replied:  'I  can  do  it  all  right, 
papa,  because  I  am  stepping  in  your  tracks, 
and  if  I  step  in  your  tracks  every  time,  I'll  go 
just  where  you  do,  won't  I?  And  when  I  am 
a  big  man  I  can  step  as  far  as  you  can  and  we 
will  go  everywhere  together,  and  when  you  go 
to  Chicago  I  can  go  with  you,  can't  I?  When 
I  am  a  man  I  want  to  do  just  what  my  papa 
does.' 

"When  they  were  back  in  the  house  and  the 
child  was  in  bed  he  told  his  wife  about  it,  and 
he  said  to  her,  'Annie,  I've  been  an  old  fool. 
I'm  not  big  enough  to  live  without  a  God  and 
I  need  one  mighty  bad.  From  now  on  if  you 
and  He  will  help  me  I  am  going  to  walk  so 
straight  that  Billy  can  follow  my  steps  with 
pride,  and  I  am  going  to  begin  now.'  They 
knelt  right  there  at  the  old  lounge  and  talked 
it  over  with  the  Almighty. 

"We  were  dismissed  and  went  down  stairs. 
I  still  had  three  hours  before  my  mother's  train 
would  arrive;  time  enough  to  'take  in  the  town,' 
but  that  part  of  the  town  no  longer  had  any 


24          THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

attraction.    The  Strange  Woman  had  become  a 
beast  of  the  jungle  to  me. 

"Tom  took  me  through  that  wonderful  build- 
ing and  showed  me  the  gymnasium  and  reading 
room  and  games  and  the  night  class  depart- 
ment,   where   working   men   came   to   get   an 
education,  which  they  could  not  get  by  day- 
light.    It  was  a  revelation.     Then  we  saw  a 
group  of  men  and  boys  in  one  end  of  the  recep- 
tion hall.    We  went  over  and  listened.    Nearly 
every  man  had  a  funny  story,  and  not  one  of 
them  tainted.     They  were  sweet  and  whole- 
some,  and   the   funniest   stories   I   had   ever 
heard.    This  was  a  new  experience  also.   When- 
ever I  had  heard  stories  before  among  the  set  I 
trained  with,  someone  would  bring  in  some- 
thing vulgar.     About  eleven  o'clock  the  men 
began  to  go  home.     One  of  them  stopped  us 
and  said:  'Boys,  isn't  it  fine  that  we  can  meet 
in  a  place  like  this  and  be  sure  that  no  one  will 
introduce  a  story  that  will  make  us  ashamed 
that  we  heard  it?     It  is  an  insult  to  a  man's 
intelligence  when  anyone  offers  to  entertain  him 
with  the  most  nauseous  vulgarity  of  his  evil 
mind.     If  those  men  who  insist  upon  regaling 
me  with  their  coarse  stories  should  invite  me 
to  their  orchard,  would  they  offer  me  decayed 
fruit  to  eat?    If  they  should  ask  me  to  dine, 
would  they  give  me   spoiled   vegetables   and 


THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS          25 

tainted  meat?  If  they  have  too  much  courtesy 
to  feed  my  body  with  such  foods,  why  should 
they  feed  my  mind  with  what  is  worse?' 

"For  years  I  remembered  those  delicious 
stories.  One  of  them  I  remember  yet,  and  I 
have  laughed  over  it  for  twenty -five  years.  No 
doubt  you  have  heard  it;  about  the  negro  and 
.the  'hant.'  It's  an  old  one." 

"I  don't  recall  it,"  I  said. 

"Well,"  he  went  on,  "there  was  a  darkey 
named  Jim,  who  boasted  that  he  wasn't  afraid 
of  no  'hant'  what  growed,  'case  dey  wasn't 
none  what  'growed,'  an'  if  any  'hant'  bodder 
him  he  gwine  bus'  his  face  wide  open. 

"Now,  there  was  a  vacant  house  between 
town  and  Jim's  cabin  where  an  old  man  had 
been  murdered.  All  the  negroes  believed  the 
house  was  haunted,  and  they  never  went  by  it 
at  night  when  they  could  go  any  other  way. 
Jim  was  just  as  frightened  of  that  house  as  any 
of  them,  but  in  daylight  he  always  boasted  of 
what  he  was  going  to  do  with  the  'hant'  if  he 
'met  up  with  him.' 

"Well,  one  night  Jim  was  kept  late  in  town. 
When  he  approached  the  haunted  house  his 
eyes  got  big  and  white  and  his  knees  got  weak. 
He  tried  not  to  run,  but  he  was  scared  in  his 
heels  and  his  feet  ran  off  with  him.  Just  as  he 
passed  the  gate  the  'hant'  stepped  out  of  the 


26          THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

door  of  the  house  and  said,  'Howdy,  Brother 
Jim!' 

"Jim  never  replied  to  the  greeting.  He  just 
caught  his  breath  and  took  down  the  road  and 
the  ghost  took  after  him.  Jim  looked  back  and 
saw  the  ghost  coming.  He  let  out  a  whoop  of 
terror  and  increased  his  speed.  When  he  looked 
again  the  ghost  was  gaining.  The  next  time 
the  ghost  was  at  his  heels  reaching  out  his 
hand  for  Jim's  shoulder.  Jim  mended  his  licks 
until  he  got  near  home.  He  looked  again,  but 
the  'hant'  was  so  close  he  didn't  dare  turn  in 
at  his  own  gate  and  down  the  hill  he  started. 
He  stumbled  over  a  log  and  fell  thirty  or  forty 
feet.  He  rolled  over  and  over,  but  he  saw  the 
'hant'  coming.  Jim  didn't  stop;  he  just  landed 
on  his  feet  a-running.  He  came  to  a  rail  fence 
and  went  over  without  touching  a  rail.  He 
looked  again  and  saw  the  'hant'  at  his  heels. 
He  came  to  a  hedge  and  went  through  it  like  a 
rabbit.  He  heard  the  'hant'  laugh  close  to  his 
ear.  Jim  put  on  more  steam  until  he  came  to 
the  bank  of  the  'branch.'  He  tried  to  jump  it, 
but  fell  into  the  middle  of  the  pool.  He  scram- 
bled out  on  the  other  side,  still  a-going,  the 
'hant'  at  his  elbow. 

"Jim  was  getting  winded,  but  his  heels  were 
willing. 

"He  made  another  mile,  then  finally  out  of 


THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS          27 

breath  he  sat  down  on  the  end  of  a  log.  He 
looked  around  and  saw  the  'hant'  sitting  on 
the  other  end. 

"Jim's  eyes  rolled,  but  he  couldn't  go  any 
farther.  Suddenly  the  ghost  hitched  along  the 
log  and  came  a  foot  closer.  Jim  jumped,  but 
settled  back.  He  kept  his  eye  on  the  ghost. 
The  ghost  hitched  another  foot  along  the  log. 
Jim's  nerves  jerked  and  the  white  of  his  eyes 
bulged,  but  he  couldn't  get  to  his  feet.  He  was 
panting  like  a  dog  in  July.  Finally  the  ghost 
hitched  up  close  to  Jim's  side  and  laid  his  hand 
on  his  shoulder  and  said:  'Jim,  that  was  a  great 
race  we  had,  wasn't  it?' 

'Yas,  sah,  yas,  sah,'  panted  Jim,  'dat  was 
a  great  race.  Yas,  sah,  but  'taint  nothin'  t'whut 
we  gwine  to  hev  soon's  I  git  ma  bref ,'  and  with 
that  Jim  hit  the  road  with  the  ghost  blowing 
his  hot  breath  on  the  back  of  his  black  neck. 
Oh,  those  delicious  stories! 

THE   HOME 

"It  was  still  a  long  time  before  my  mother's 
train  would  come.  Tom's  father  invited  me  to 
go  home  with  them.  I  went  gladly,  for  it 
seemed  to  me  there  was  no  other  place  in  the 
city  that  I  could  go. 

"When  we  arrived  at  the  house,  Olive,  Tom's 
sister,  met  us  at  the  door.  His  mother  wel- 


28          THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

corned  me,  too.  We  sang  and  played  games, 
until  Mrs.  Holland  went  to  the  kitchen  and 
cooked  molasses  for  taffy.  We  pulled  it  and 
twisted  it  and  laid  it  out  in  the  cold,  then  broke 
it  and  ate  it;  and  somehow  I  was  always  close 
to  Olive,  who  was  sweeter  than  a  flower,  even 
then. 

"When  the  time  came  for  me  to  meet  my 
mother's  train,  Tom  said:  'Come  on,  Olive,  let 
us  go  with  him.  We  know  the  city  and  they 
don't.'  Olive  looked  at  her  mother,  who  smiled 
and  gave  her  consent.  When  we  were  ready  to 
leave,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Holland  shook  hands  with 
me,  then  bade  me  good-by  and  invited  me  to 
come  again.  Mr.  Holland  held  my  hand  a  long 
while  and  looked  straight  into  my  eyes  and 
said:  'Frank,  I'm  glad  you  could  be  with  us  at 
the  Young  Men's  Christian  Association  tonight. 
I  wish  your  father  could  have  been  there,  too. 
I  have  known  of  him  for  a  good  many  years, 
and  there  is  not  a  man  in  this  state  who  has  a 
cleaner  reputation  than  your  father.  Tell  him 
to  come  to  see  us  when  he  is  in  the  city.  You 
have  a  father  to  be  proud  of,  and  I  hope  you 
will  grow  to  be  such  a  man  as  will  make  him 
proud  of  you.' 

"He  looked  at  me  searchingly,  still  holding  my 
hand,  then  continued:  'Son,  when  you  come  to 
this  city,  or  any  other,  go  to  the  Young  Men's 


THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS          29 

Christian  Association  to  find  your  pleasure.  It 
will  help  your  reputation,  make  a  better  boy  of 
you,  keep  you  out  of  temptation  and  you  will 
meet  friends  there  you  will  want  to  cultivate 
all  your  life.  It  is  the  only  institution  I  know 
of  which  has  been  organized  for  the  comfort 
and  benefit  of  young  men.  It  is  maintained  by 
voluntary  subscriptions  at  an  expense  of  many 
millions  of  dollars.  Its  purpose  and  motives  are 
all  good.  No  man  has  ever  been  injured  by  the 
influences  of  a  Young  Men's  Christian  Associa- 
tion. I  wish  we  had  a  picture  of  the  young  men 
and  their  fathers  who  were  drawn  to  the  Associa- 
tion tonight,  and  then  another  of  the  young 
men  and  old  men  who  were  drawn  to  other  re- 
sorts of  the  city.  There  are  many  that  are  not 
harmful,  but  there  would  be  scenes  which  would 
make  you  shudder  and  would  break  many  a 
father's  and  mother's  heart.' 

"We  ran  out  to  catch  the  car,  and  when  my 
mother  stepped  off  the  train  I  introduced  her 
to  my  new  friends.  They  put  us  into  a  carriage 
for  the  other  depot  where  we  were  to  take  our 
train  for  home  and  we  bade  them  good  night.  ] 

THE   MOTHER 

"I  shall  never  forget  the  ride  across  the  city 
and  the  hour's  ride  from  the  city  to  our  town. 
When  she  stepped  off  the  train  Mother's  face 


30  '        THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

had  been  troubled,  but  when  we  were  alone 
and  I  told  her  of  the  whole  evening  she  was 
happier  than  I  had  seen  her  for  many  months. 
She  took  my  hand  in  hers  and  pulled  it  into  her 
muff  and  we  sat  that  way  until  our  station  was 
called.  Father  and  my  sister  met  us  and  we 
went  home  together  a  happy  quartet. 

"That  night  I  did  not  sleep.  I  lay  awake 
thinking  of  my  old  habits,  and  for  the  first  time 
I  saw  where  they  were  leading  me.  Then  I 
saw  again  the  scene  at  the  Fathers'  and  Sons' 
Banquet — the  Young  Men's  Christian  Associa- 
tion had  a  new  meaning.  It  seemed  to  be  a 
haven  and  harbor  for  young  men,  and  the 
thought  of  it  and  its  influence  filled  my  heart 
with  tenderness. 

"Then  I  remembered  the  Holland  home  and 
family,  and  I  said:  'They  are  fine  people.  Yes, 
they  are  fine  people,  but  they  are  no  better  than 
my  own  people.  Mr.  Holland  is  no  better  man 
than  my  own  father.  Mrs.  Holland  is  no  finer 
woman  than  my  own  mother.  They  hope  for 
no  more  from  Tom  than  my  parents  have  hoped 
for  from  me.  I  have  as  good  a  chance  to  make 
a  man  of  myself  as  Tom  has,  and  I  am  going  to 
take  that  chance  from  tonight.' 

"Right  there  I  heard  the  door  open  softly. 
My  mother  came  in.  She  thought  I  was  sleep- 
ing. She  knelt  by  my  bed  to  pray  for  me.  I 


THE-  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS          31 

reached  over  and  put  my  hand  on  her  hair  and 
said:  'Mother,  your  prayers  for  me  are  all 
answered.' 

"She  threw  her  arms  over  my  shoulder  and 
buried  her  face  in  the  pillow  beside  mine  and 
cried  from  pure  joy,  as  if  her  heart  would  break. 
'Oh,  Frank,'  she  sobbed,  'the  Lord  has  been 
kind  to  me  tonight,  and  now  whenever  He 
wants  to  take  me  from  you  I  shall  die  happy.' 
She  had  been  breaking  fast  from  worry  over 
me.  But  from  that  time  she  grew  stronger  and 
happier  and  prettier,  and  now  she  is  the  sweetest 
old  lady  in  the  land. 

THE   SCHOOL 

"That  was  the  beginning  of  new  days  for  me. 
Everything  was  changed.  Even  the  town  was 
different.  Since  I  had  been  running  with  fast 
companions  I  had  learned  to  hate  the  town 
where  I  had  been  born  and  raised.  I  felt  that 
every  decent  man  and  woman  was  my  enemy, 
but  when  I  arose  that  first  morning  after  my 
visit  to  the  city  the  whole  town  seemed  to  be 
pleased  at  my  return. 

"The  school,  too,  was  changed.  I  could  see 
the  belfry  in  the  distance.  I  knew  the  hidden 
outline  of  the  massive  building  and  suddenly  it 
seemed  to  me  a  great  factory  which  works  with 
minds  as  other  factories  work  with  matter; 


32          THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

sometimes  turning  out  a  simple  product  be- 
cause the  material  is  inferior;  sometimes  pro- 
ducing something  very  common,  but  strong  and 
useful;  sometimes  building  something  rugged 
and  ponderous  which  can  carry  great  loads  with- 
out weariness;  sometimes  evolving  something 
fine  and  splendid  and  dominant;  which  can  lead 
the  crusades  for  great  ideas  in  times  of  peace 
and  of  war;  and  sometimes,  sometimes — but 
very  rarely — molding  a  Master  Mind,  so  delicate 
and  sensitive  and  luminous  that  it  measures  the 
march  of  mankind  with  God,  as  the  watch  in 
my  pocket  measures  the  time  of  the  stars  swing- 
ing in  the  firmament.  And  I  wondered  as  I 
walked  to  school  what  quality  of  mind  I  was 
taking  to  the  molding  room. 

"I  saw  these  things  as  through  a  mist  on  that 
morning  of  my  boyhood.  They  came  to  me 
clearly  only  after  the  lapse  of  years,  and  it  was 
many  a  day  before  I  learned  that  education  does 
not  consist  in  the  gathering  of  knowledge,  but 
in  drinking  wisdom  from  the  knowledge  we  have 
gathered. 

THE   CHURCH 

"When  Sunday  came  I  went  to  church  gladly 
and  when  the  service  was  over  I  entered  the 
boys'  class  with  a  feeling  I  had  not  had  for 
many  months  and  that  evening  I  went  with  my 


THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS          33 

sister  to  the  young  people's  meeting  and  then 
to  evening  service  and  I  began  to  see  the 
Church  as  I  had  never  seen  it  before.  I  saw 
how  it  had  stood  for  the  highest  moral  character 
and  the  loftiest  conception  of  life.  I  saw  how  it 
had  harbored  love  and  protected  the  home  and 
had  led  men  and  nations  to  God.  I  saw  how  it 
had  been  beaten  and  broken  and  almost  de- 
stroyed by  the  ruthless  passions  of  men:  but 
when  the  passions  had  spent  themselves  and 
the  storm  had  passed,  the  Church  had  been 
the  shrine  where  men  had  come  in  search  of 
something  which  is  stronger  than  man.  And 
so  the  weeks  went  by.  My  life  was  greatly 
changed,  but  there  was  something  within  me 
which  was  not  satisfied. 

"But  one  Sunday  morning  the  sermon  was 
preached  from  that  wonderful,  wonderful  verse: 
'For  God  so  loved  the  world  that  He  gave 
His  only  begotten  Son,  that  whosoever  be- 
lieveth  on  Him  should  not  perish,  but  have 
everlasting  life.' 

"And  for  the  first  time  I  began  to  see  what 
the  love  of  God  could  mean.  I  saw  that  His 
love  is  the  light  of  the  whole  world.  I  saw  that 
He  just  loves  and  loves  and  loves,  like  a  mother, 
until  He  melts  the  heart.  He  never  stops  loving. 
He  follows  us  through  all  the  dark  ways.  He  sees 
us  sin,  but  He  loves  us.  He  sees  us  fall,  but  He 


34          THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

loves  us.  He  sees  us  break  the  laws  of  the  land 
and  go  to  the  prison  cell,  but  no  bars  can  lock 
Him  out;  He  follows  and  goes  with  us  and  loves 
us.  He  sees  us  waste  our  talents  and  intelli- 
gence, still  He  loves  us.  He  sees  us  become 
wrecks  of  manhood  with  the  image  of  God 
almost  effaced,  but  He  stands  by  and  waits 
and  loves  us.  And  some  day  he  finds  us  tired 
and  sick  of  all  the  things  we  have  prized  and 
fought  for,  which  have  failed  us  and  we  say: 
'Oh,  we  would  give  everything  in  the  world  to 
be  children  again  with  some  one  to  love  us  and 
tuck  us  in';  and  then  we  think  of  the  old  home 
of  our  childhood  and  we  see  Mother  flitting 
from  room  to  room  and  we  see  her  smile  and 
hear  her  voice  in  laughter  and  song  and  we 
know  all  the  tender  things  she  ever  did  and 
then  we  remember  the  prayers  she  taught  us: 
'Now  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep,'  'Our  Father 
who  art  in  heaven.' 

"Then  we  wonder  where  God  is  and  if  He 
would  love  us  if  we  should  pray.  We  try,  and 
then — and  then,  He  takes  us  up  in  his  arms  and 
says:  'Why,  you  are  my  sons.  I  have  loved  you 
all  the  way  and  I  am  going  to  love  you  even 
unto  the  end  of  the  world  and  beyond,'  and  He 
holds  us  close  as  a  father  holds  the  son  he  loves 
and  we  feel  that  we  are  being  rocked  in  the 
arms  of  the  Almighty  and  that  we  are  riding 


THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS          35 

the  tides  of  eternity  which  carry  us  up  to  the 
very  throne  of  God. 

"Right  there  the  scenes  of  my  own  little  life 
came  before  me  and  I  saw  how  God  had  fol- 
lowed me  and  loved  me  and  how,  when  I  was 
close  to  the  rapids  of  evil,  He  turned  me  aside 
and  lured  me  into  the  home  of  Christian  friends. 
-The  tears  filled  my  eyes  and  ran  down  my 
cheeks  and  in  that  moment  I  wanted  to  find 
God  and  get  close  to  Him.  I  didn't  know  how. 
But  there  was  one  I  did  know  who  had  never 
failed  me.  I  reached  down  on  the  seat  between 
us  and  got  hold  of  Mother's  hand  and  squeezed 
it.  She  understood  as  mothers  do.  She  didn't 
turn  to  look  at  me,  but  clasped  my  hand  tightly 
in  hers  and  I  knew  that  God  was  not  far  away, 
for  it  is  the  love  of  the  mother  which  is  most 
like  the  love  of  the  Good  God,  and  we  learn 
to  see  Him  through  her.  Her  love  follows  us 
too,  even  down  to  the  end  of  the  world  and 
beyond  as  long  as  her  soul  shall  live. 

"Well,  when  we  had  gotten  away  from  the 
church  and  were  going  up  the  lane  toward  our 
house,  father  and  my  sister  were  ahead  and  I 
turned  to  Mother  and  said:  'Mother,  I  have  to 
find  God  if  He  is  such  a  God  as  the  Bible  tells 
us  He  is.  I  can't  live  without  Him.' 

"Mother  turned  to  me  with  her  rare  smile 
and  said:  'Frank,  the  half  has  never  been  told  in 


36          THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

the  Bible  or  out  of  it.  You  must  live  close  to 
Him  and  trust  Him  if  you  would  know  what  a 
wonderful  Father  He  is,  and  the  easy  way  is  to 
know  Jesus.' 

"And  so  I  found  God,"  said  the  great  man, 
simply. 

He  stopped  and  we  lay  looking  into  the 
heavens  for  many  minutes,  then  he  continued: 

"The  way  of  my  life  has  led  me  into  large 
affairs  and  with  others  we  have  accomplished 
many  things,  but  my  great  achievement  was 
fulfilled  on  that  Sunday  afternoon  when  I  went 
with  Mother  to  her  room  and  we  prayed  until 
I  found  God.  All  of  my  other  possessions  will 
pass  away.  But  God  will  not  pass  away. 
Everything  else  will  vanish,  but  God  will  not 
vanish.  To  find  God:  that  is  the  greatest 
thing  in  the  world.  No  man  ever  does  any- 
thing greater  than  that." 

I  thought  that  was  the  end,  but  after  a  long 
silence  he  continued : 

THE   GIRL 

"My  association  with  Tom  at  college  drew 
our  families  close  together,  for  Tom  and  I  went 
together  and  roomed  together  for  four  years. 
During  our  vacations  we  had  Tom  out  home 
and  he  had  me  in  the  city,  and  I  came  to  know 
Olive  well.  She  grew  up  and  put  on  the  airs 


"One  night  we  stood  under 
the  walnut  tree  by  the 
fountain" 


38          THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

of  a  young  lady,  enveloped  in  the  atmosphere 
of  contradictions -and  mysteries.  She  became 
prettier  every  day,  and  sweeter  too.  She  was 
much  sought  for  and  many  men  would  have 
given  any  price  to  win  her.  She  taunted  me  by 
treating  me  as  a  brother,  and  sometimes  called 
me  'Brother  Frank.'  While  in  college  I  worried 
lest  I  should  lose  her.  She  scolded  me  if  I  did 
not  write,  but  her  answers  were  always  late. 
When  she  seemed  farthest  from  me,  I  was 
comforted  by  the  memory  of  the  girl  in  the 
gingham  dress  with  the  brown  curls  hanging 
down  her  back — the  girl  with  the  haunting 
eyes,  whose  laughter  was  pure  music. 

"She  broke  my  heart  a  hundred  times,  but 
mended  it  again,  yet  she  evaded  me,  until  one 
night  we  stood  under  the  walnut  tree  by  the 
fountain  in  her  father's  yard.  I  had  given 
up,  and  held  out  my  hand  and  said:  'Good-by, 
Olive;  I  am  not  coming  again.  I  have  tried  for 
ten  years  to  win  you,  but  I  have  failed.  Good- 
by.' 

"She  stepped  up  very  close  to  me  and  put 
one  arm  around  my  neck.  'You  dear  old  Mr. 
Blind  Man,'  she  whispered  in  my  ear,  'I  have 
loved  you  every  minute  since  we  pulled  candy 
together  in  my  mother's  kitchen.' 

"That  was  twenty  years  ago.  Our  lives  have 
been  filled  with  sunshine  and  shadow.  We  have 


THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS         39 

a  boy  and  a  girl  to  gladden  our  home,  but  there 
is  a  long  shadow  from  a  little  headstone  in  the 
cemetery  where  a  baby  girl  lies. 

"But  my  life  has  been  blessed,  because  one 
night  the  Young  Men's  Christian  Association 
caught  me  off  the  street  and  changed  my  path 
forever.  It  opened  to  me  my  business  career. 
It  led  me  to  Olive  and  the  happy  home  which 
she  has  blessed.  It  brought  me  to  the  Church, 
and  through  it  I  have  found  God  and  Jesus 
Christ  whom  He  has  sent.  To  this  day,  when 
I  look  back  to  that  night  and  the  'parting  of 
the  ways,'  I  shiver  with  fear  as  I  wonder  what 
would  have  been  my  destiny  if  I  had  not 
caught  the  Life  Line  for  boys,  which  has  pulled 
so  many  ashore. 

"And  this  is  my  message  to  the  boy: 

To  find  God. 

To  be  a  friendly  chum  with  Jesus. 

To  pray  often. 

To  know  the  truth. 

To  live  clean. 

To  learn  honor. 

To  love  his  father. 

To  adore  his  mother. 

To  make  a  clean  record  each  day  from  break- 
fast to  bedtime,  so  that  the  mother  who  loves 
him  may  kneel  by  his  bed  each  night  and  read 
the  page  with  a  glad  joy  and  thank  the  good 


40          THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

Lord  for  the  man  child  she  carried  under  her 
heart  and  gave  to  the  world. 

And  when  temptations  come,  to  stop  and  fix 
her  image  in  his  mind  and  repeat  'Break  Not 
Thy  Mother's  Heart!'  " 


THE  LETTER  HE  WAS  ASHAMED  OF 


THE  LETTER  HE  WAS  ASHAMED  OF 

I  WORK  for  Mr.  King,  a  leader  of  men.  He 
is  Sales  Manager  for  a  great  corporation. 
He  has  more  than  a  thousand  salesmen  travel- 
ing over  the  world,  and  he  knows  them  as  a 
mother  knows  her  babies.  He  knows  them  in 
the  mass,  and  he  knows  them  as  individuals. 
He  knows  their  habits  and  manners.  He  knows 
their  strength  and  weakness,  and  he  seems  to 
know  by  instinct  how  to  fit  them  into  the  field 
they  have  to  cover.  And  yet  he  does  not  see 
them  often;  some  of  them  he  has  never  seen. 
They  are  roaming  over  all  the  earth,  beating 
up  the  jungles  of  trade  for  more,  and  still  more, 
and  yet  more,  business;  and  often  his  only  way 
of  controlling  his  men  or  of  developing  profit- 
able situations  is  by  letter  or  wire  or  cable. 

Of  course,  he  has  organized  a  wonderful  sell- 
ing system.  His  men  are  trained  to  the  last 
degree  of  efficiency  and  they  are  given  large 
liberty  and  freedom  in  closing  sales,  but  often 
he  is  called  upon  to  solve,  by  a  letter  or  a  wire, 
important  problems  which  involve  many  thou- 
sands of  dollars,  and  he  has  developed  a  genius 

Copyright,  1916,  by  Katharine  McCowan 
43 


44          THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

for  letter  writing.  Sometimes  I  think  this  is  his 
great  gift,  except  his  uncanny  skill  in  doing  the 
unexpected  thing,  as  you  shall  see  before  this 
story  is  finished. 

I  could  tell  you  tales  of  business  he  has 
opened  up  and  of  great  transactions  closed,  and 
of  the  one  letter  which  made  more  than  three 
hundred  thousand  dollars  for  his  firm,  and  of 
other  miracles  which  his  letters  have  seemed  to 
perform,  and  maybe  I  will  some  day,  but  the 
letter  I  want  to  tell  you  about  now  is  the  letter 
he  was  ashamed  of. 

He  had  persuaded  our  firm  to  call  all  of  the 
salesmen  to  the  home  office  for  a  convention. 
They  came,  nearly  a  thousand  of  them,  and 
filled  the  hotels  of  the  town  to  overflowing. 
They  were  dined  and  entertained.  They  were 
not  wined,  because  Mr.  King  is  a  Christian. 
They  were  shown  through  the  great  plant. 
They  met  the  managers,  and  then  they  all 
gathered  in  the  Assembly  Hall  and  discussed  the 
goods  and  the  business  and  the  system  and  the 
field.  The  great  men  told  stories  of  wonderful 
deeds  in  salesmanship,  as  interesting  as  the 
stories  of  the  buccaneers  of  old — stories  of  sales 
running  into  the  thousands  and  hundreds  of 
thousands  of  dollars,  and  in  the  midst  of  com- 
petition from  other  firms  as  strong  as  ours  and 
with  their  master  salesmen  on  hand  to  win  the 


THE  LETTER  HE  WAS  ASHAMED  OF    45 

same  prize.  And  then,  here  and  there,  some 
man  was  called  upon  to  tell  how  he  had  lost 
some  rich  order  to  a  competitor  more  resource- 
ful than  himself. 

For  four  days  the  convention  continued  and 
those  of  us  at  home  were  filled  with  the  spirit 
of  the  field  and  the  field-men  were  filled  with 
enthusiasm  for  the  manager  and  the  great  in- 
dustry at  home.  On  the  last  night  we  had  an 
open  congress.  The  men  from  the  shops  and 
the  offices  were  present,  too,  and  the  mammoth 
hall  was  packed  to  its  capacity.  Many  ad- 
dresses were  made.  The  last  one  was  a  toast  to: 
"Our  Sales  Manager,  Mr.  King — the  King  of 
his  Craft." 

Among  other  things,  the  speaker  said,  "When 
the  days  go  wrong  with  me,  all  I  need  is  a  letter 
from  the  King.  I  think  he  is  the  greatest  letter 
writer  in  the  world.  There  are  no  two  letters 
alike  and  every  one  meets  the  situation." 

And  then  he  told  how  the  manager  had  helped 
him  by  letters  or  wires  with  important  sales. 

"A  few  months  ago,"  he  said,  "I  had  a  'pros- 
pect' for  an  immense  order,  but  I  couldn't  close 
him.  The  man  I  was  negotiating  with  liked  our 
goods.  Apparently  he  wanted  to  handle  them. 
He  had  listed  all  the  articles  his  trade  would 
need.  I  had  the  contract  filled  in,  but  I  could 
not  get  his  signature.  Our  competitors  were  on 


46          THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

the  ground,  as  thick  as  mosquitoes  in  a  swamp. 
I  had  written  to  the  office  here  concerning  this 
'prospect,'  and  had  intimated  that  I  ought  to 
get  the  order.  But  one  night,  after  a  day  of 
the  strongest  pressure  I  could  use,  I  was  con- 
vinced that  I  had  lost  the  largest  sale  that  had 
ever  come  my  way.  I  wired  Mr.  King,  just  as 
I  was  going  into  the  dining  room  for  supper. 
Two  hours  later  I  received  a  reply  in  five  sen- 
tences. Every  sentence  was  like  a  search  light. 
I  saw  at  once  what  to  do.  That  telegram  did 
the  business.  I  went  out  the  next  morning  and 
got  my  contract  signed." 

The  crowd  cheered  as  if  they  understood  the 
taste  of  the  sweet  morsel  he  was  rolling  over 
his  tongue. 

The  speaker  continued:  "There  is  one  thing  I 
have  always  wanted  to  ask  of  our  Sales  Man- 
ager, and  I  am  going  to  ask  him  now,  because 
nothing  could  be  a  greater  inspiration  or  be  of 
more  value  to  those  of  us  who  represent  this 
great  company  in  the  field  than  his  answer  if 
he  will  give  it.  I  am  going  to  ask  him  to  tell  us 
tonight  before  we  disperse  for  another  cam- 
paign, what  he  regards  as  the  most  important 
and  fruitful  letter  he  ever  wrote." 

The  crowd  didn't  wait  for  him  to  finish.  They 
called  for  a  speech.  They  were  just  a  mob  of 
boys  after  all. 


THE  LETTER  HE  WAS  ASHAMED  OF    47 

"Speech,  speech  by  the  King!" 

"Silence!    Silence!    The  King  will  speak." 

"All  hail  the  King!" 

"Speech!  Speech!  Speech!"  they  cried  and 
clamored,  until  Mr.  King  arose  and  began  to 
talk. 

He  thanked  them  for  their  kind  words  and 
then  opened  up  the  subject  of  salesmanship. 

"Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "your  gracious  words 
have  warmed  my  heart  tonight.  It  is  a  real 
triumph  to  have  won  the  enthusiasm  and  ap- 
proval of  such  a  company  of  men. 

"It  isn't  strange,"  he  said,  "that  I  am  able 
sometimes  to  write  a  letter  which  meets  your 
needs.  I  have  worked  in  the  factory  in  every 
capacity  from  the  engine  room  to  the  shipping 
room.  I  can  make  almost  every  piece  which  we 
sell.  I  was  collector.  I  worked  in  the  credit 
department  and  then  went  on  the  road  as 
salesman.  I  have  seen  this  company  grow  from 
a  small  shop  to  the  great  factory  it  is  today.  I 
was  with  it  in  its  days  of  poverty  and  I  am  with 
it  in  its  day  of  power.  I  know  its  growth  and 
development  almost  as  accurately  as  the  owners 
do.  I  know  all  the  great  sales  which  have  been 
made,  and  the  great  sales  which  have  been  lost. 
We  have  the  histories  of  them  in  our  files,  and 
almost  every  puzzle  or  problem  which  arises  for 
you  today  has  arisen  some  time  before  in  some 


48          THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

phase  or  form.  And  then  I  am  here  where  I 
can  see  the  whole  field  and  you  are  so  close  to 
your  'prospect*  that  you  have  a  small  perspec- 
tive. I  am  like  a  man  on  a  mountain  top 
looking  at  you  in  the  valley.  With  this  view 
and  knowledge,  I  sometimes  am  able  to  write 
letters  which  meet  the  situation.  But,  gentle- 
men, listen  to  me!  My  letters  would  not  get 
the  business  if  I  did  not  have  the  best  bunch  of 
salesmen  in  our  line  to  make  them  good.  It  is 
personality  which  closes  sales  and  brings  suc- 
cess. 

"There  are  some  fundamental  elements  neces- 
sary in  every  successful  salesman.  You  must 
have  a  specific  and  comprehensive  knowledge  of 
the  goods  you  sell.  You  must  have  an  honest 
belief  that  you  are  selling  the  best  article  of  its 
kind  on  the  market.  You  must  have  intuition, 
originality,  and  resourcefulness,  and,  above  all, 
personal  charm.  You  must  be  full  of  surprises 
and  yet  have  a  quality  of  honor  above  all  sus- 
picion. 

"I  think  we  have  the  finest  selling  organiza- 
tion in  the  world.  We  have  combed  the  earth 
to  get  the  men  we  have.  There  are  more  than  a 
thousand  of  you.  We  have  sifted  out  more 
than  twenty  thousand  men  in  making  the  se- 
lection we  have  today.  I  am  working  with  you. 
You  are  working  with  me,  and  at  any  time, 


THE  LETTER  HE  WAS  ASHAMED  OF    49 

when  I  can  serve  you  by  letter,  by  wire,  by 
cable,  or  by  personal  service,  call  uppn  me  and 
we  will  put  up  such  a  fight  for  business,  that 
when  we  do  not  get  it,  we  shall  know  that  the 
'prospect'  cannot  be  sold  at  that  time. 

"You  have  asked  me  to  tell  you  of  the  great- 
est letter  I  ever  wrote.  I  have  never  told  any 
one  but  my  wife  and  didn't  think  that  I  ever 
would  tell.  The  members  of  this  firm  do  not 
know  of  it.  My  closest  friends  have  never 
heard  of  it,  and  when  I  wrote  it  and  had  posted 
it,  I  was  ashamed  of  it  and  would  have  recalled 
it  if  I  could,  but  Uncle  Sam  never  returns  any- 
thing he  gets  his  hands  on." 

Right  there,  he  stopped,  stepped  over  to  me, 
and  gave  me  a  key  to  his  private  box  in  the 
vault.  When  I  came  back,  I  handed  to  him  an 
old  worn  envelope,  with  the  address  in  his 
handwriting.  He  took  it  from  me  with  a  strange 
wistful  expression  in  his  eyes.  He  held  it  up 
before  us  as  if  it  were  a  sacred  thing,  and  said : 

"Gentlemen,  here  is  the  most  important  let- 
ter I  ever  wrote.  Here  is  the  letter  I  was 
ashamed  of.  I  got  it  back  after  a  number  of 
years.  The  profits  from  this  letter  have  been 
greater  to  the  sender  and  receiver  than  the 
profits  from  any  other  letter  I  ever  sent  through 
the  mails." 

He  was  still  looking  at  us. 


50          THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

He  took  the  letter  from  its  envelope  almost 
tenderly.  Somehow  the  whole  scene  had 
changed. 

The  house  had  become  very  still.  We 
watched  him  hi  awe. 

He  smoothed  the  sheet  out  and  we  could  see 
that  it  was  worn  through  in  creases  where  it 
had  been  folded. 

The  paper  appeared  yellow  with  age,  and 
soiled. 

He  seemed  to  have  forgotten  us.  He  stood 
looking  at  the  letter  before  him  for  several 
minutes;  then  he  continued: 

"I  wrote  this  letter  a  good  many  years  ago," 
he  said.  "I  had  been  in  this  shop  until  I  felt 
that  I  must  have  more  education  to  succeed. 
Then  I  had  gone  to  college  for  four  years.  It 
had  been  a  struggle.  I  had  worked  my  way 
through  and  we  came  up  to  the  days  of  gradua- 
tion and  parting.  The  day  after  the  exercises 
were  closed,  I  went  to  every  train  to  see  my  old 
classmates  and  friends  off.  I  had  some  loose 
ends  of  work  to  clean  up  which  took  me  a  few 
days,  so  that  I  was  the  last  to  leave.  When 
the  late  train  had  gone,  I  walked  back  through 
the  deserted  streets,  which  had  been  so  full  of 
life  with  the  departed  students.  I  started 
across  the  campus.  The  stars  were  very  bright 
and  the  moon  swung  low  on  the  horizon.  The 


THE  LETTER  HE  WAS  ASHAMED  OF    51 

building  stood  stark  and  still  among  the  great 
trees.  There  were  no  lights  from  the  windows. 
No  music  floated  from  the  conservatory.  No 
step  echoed  along  the  walks.  There  were  no 
voices  of  laughter  and  song,  and  no  slowly 
moving  shadows  of  lovers  in  the  distance.  I 
made  my  way  to  the  seat  between  the  two 
great  maples  and  sat  there  alone  thinking. 

"This  had  been  my  home  for  four  years,  and 
now  the  family  was  broken  up.  The  members 
had  scattered,  and  I  alone  was  left,  and  my 
college  days  were  over.  I  was  as  lonely  as  a 
boy  could  be,  and  homesick,  and  I  thought  of 
my  mother  and  how  she  must  have  felt  when 
the  last  of  her  family  had  gone  and  she  was 
alone.  The  tears  came  to  my  eyes  and  I  went 
to  my  room  and  poured  out  my  heart  to  her 
in  this  letter  which  I  am  going  to  read  to  you 
tonight." 

The  great  room  was  as  silent  as  if  it  were 
empty. 

He  stood  still  for  a  minute  and  then  he  began 
to  read: 

"  'My  DEAR  MOTHER: 

"  'My  college  days  are  over.  The  other  stu- 
dents have  gone.  The  future  is  uncertain.  The 
campus  is  still  and  I  have  been  thinking  of  you, 
with  a  heart  too  full  to  talk  much,  if  I  should 


52          THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

see  you,  but  I  do  want  to  write.  I  have  been 
thinking  how  you  must  have  felt  when  the  last 
of  us  had  gone  and  you  were  alone  after  the 
years  of  patience  and  anxiety  in  raising  a  large 
family.  What  a  life  you  have  lived,  so  full  of 
sorrow  and  sacrifice  and  suffering.  You  have 
given  so  much  and  have  received  so  little. 

"  'Is  this  the  life  of  all  mothers?  Is  this  the 
reward  every  girl  is  promised  when  she  gives 
her  heart  to  a  man?  I  can  see  it  all,  even  back 
to  the  days  of  my  childhood.  It  has  been  one 
long  term  of  service,  and  we  never  knew,  and 
often  we  were  not  even  grateful  for  this  gift  of 
life  which  you  have  bestowed. 

*  'But  tonight,  with  the  college  aays  and 
college  friends  gone,  I  can  see  how  you  have 
hovered  over  me  along  the  years.  I  remember 
when  I  was  so  small  that  I  wore  the  little  red- 
and-white  dress,  and  one  day  playing  barefooted 
I  stepped  on  a  piece  of  glass,  and  when  the 
blood  gushed  I  screamed.  You  had  me  in  your 
arms  hi  a  minute,  the  blood  from  my  foot  run- 
ning down  the  front  of  your  apron.  You  soon 
had  the  gash  cleaned  and  bound,  and  then  you 
took  me  in  your  arms  and  pillowed  my  head  on 
your  breast  and  rocked  me  to  sleep  and  con- 
tentment. 

'There  is  no  place  so  restful  as  a  mother's 
breast,  and  tonight  I  wish  that  I  were  a  child 


THE  LETTER  HE  WAS  ASHAMED  OF   53 

again,  pillowed  in  the  same  warm  nest  with 
your  arms  around  me  and  could  hear  the  soft 
tones  of  the  old  familiar  hymn,  "There's  a 
Land  that  is  Fairer  than  Day,"  which  you  used 
to  hum  to  us. 

'  'And  do  you  remember  when  I  was  a  few 
years  older,  how  I  stepped  on  a  garden  rake 
and  ran  one  tooth  through  my  foot  and  when 
you  reached  me  we  tried  and  tried  many  times 
to  pull  it  out  before  we  succeeded.  You  were 
frightened  that  time,  and  sent  for  the  doctor, 
but  before  he  came  you  poured  something  into 
the  wound  which  boiled  and  foamed  and 
smarted.  (They  call  it  "Peroxide"  now.)  You 
followed  that  with  turpentine,  and  when  the 
old  doctor  came,  he  said:  "That  was  just  the 
right  thing  to  do,  Mrs.  King." 

*  'Mothers  always  know  just  the  right  thing 
to  do;  don't  they,  Mother? 

'  'Then  there  was  the  accident  when  we  boys 
were  climbing  the  willow  trees  down  by  the 
brook,  and  we  "dared"  each  other  to  climb  the 
highest,  and  went  higher  and  higher,  with  each 
step  the  branches  becoming  a  little  weaker  and 
the  wind  swaying  us  like  birds  on  a  bough;  and 
then  suddenly  and  without  warning,  the  limb 
under  me  broke  and  I  started  for  the  earth 
about  forty  feet  below,  and  the  brittle  branches 
snapped  as  I  struck  them,  and  I  landed  in  the 


54          THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

soft  mud  in  the  bed  of  the  ravine,  which  prob- 
ably saved  my  life.  The  other  boys  gathered 
me  up,  thinking  that  all  of  my  bones  were 
broken.  They  were  not,  but  I  was  scratched 
and  cut  and  bruised,  world  without  end. 

"  'Then  there  was  the  diphtheria.  There  was 
not  much  anti-toxin  in  those  days,  except  the 
anti-toxin  of  love,  which  was  effective,  too; 
because  when  the  doctor  thought  I  was  chok- 
ing, the  things  I  knew  were  your  voice  and 
touch,  and  they  seemed  in  some  way  to  open 
the  passage  for  enough  air  to  live  upon. 

'You  must  have  had  a  hospital  most  of  the 
time,  for  I  had  no  more  accidents  or  diseases 
than  the  other  boys. 

'  'And  then  the  typhoid  came  ana  we  were 
all  sick  but  you.  The  fever  ran  its  course  with 
each  of  us,  and  you,  Mother  mine,  did  all  the 
nursing  for  many  months  except  what  the  kind 
neighbors  did  to  help,  and  when  there  were  no 
more  of  us  to  feed  upon,  the  fever  left.  But 
some  of  us  had  gone,  never  to  return,  and  the 
rest  were  poor  and  young.  I  would  have 
thought  that  would  have  broken  your  spirit,  if 
not  your  heart.  But  I  can  see  now  that  sick- 
ness and  death  are  not  the  worst  things  that 
can  happen,  and  that  the  worst  was  yet  to 
come. 

'The  days  which  tried  your  courage  and 


THE  LETTER  HE  WAS  ASHAMED  OF    55 

your  faith  were  the  days  when  we  came  into 
our  teens  and  fell  into  temptation. 

*  'It  is  a  triumph  to  raise  a  boy  to  manhood 
with  a  healthy  body. 

*  'It  is  a  greater  triumph  to  raise  one  to 
manhood  with  a  healthy  soul.    And  when  I  look 
back  over  my  life,  I  wonder  how  a  boy  without 
a  mother  to  love  him  ever  comes  through  to  a 
manhood  of  honor.     It  seems  to  me  that  you 
have  saved  me  a  hundred  times,  and  since  I 
have  been  away  from  home,  your  faith  and 
confidence  in  me  and  your  love  for  me  have 
gone  with  me  all  the  way. 

*  'Do  you  remember  when  I  found  the  purse 
with  six  dollars  in  it,  and  how  I  wanted  to  keep 
it  because  we  needed  the  money  so  badly? 

"  'But  you  said:  "No,  my  son,  we  must  find 
the  owner.  It  does  not  belong  to  us." 

'  'For  several  weeks  we  failed  to  learn  whose 
purse  it  was,  and  every  day  I  became  more 
hopeful  that  we  would  never  learn,  but  you 
would  not  let  me  spend  the  money.  And  the 
day  we  did  find  the  owner  was  about  the  bit- 
terest day  of  my  youth,  until  I  went  with  you 
to  deliver  it  to  the  gentleman  who  had  lost  it, 
and  then  somehow  my  grief  turned  to  joy. 

"  'How  wise  you  were  to  take  me  with  you. 
In  that  hour  you  taught  me  not  to  covet  what 
might  come  into  my  possession  by  accident, 


56          THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

and  not  to  conceal  and  hold  anything  for  my- 
self which  was  not  mine. 

"  'Do  you  remember  when  Henry  took  me 
into  his  father's  cellar  and  gave  me  some  wine? 
I  was  worried  because  you  had  talked  to  us  a 
great  deal  about  the  evil  which  liquor  does  in 
the  world.  I  think  you  knew  there  was  some- 
thing on  my  mind.  I  tried  to  tell  you  that 
night  before  I  went  to  bed,  but  couldn't.  I  was 
afraid  it  would  break  your  heart.  I  lay  awake 
nearly  all  night,  thinking,  and  the  next  morning, 
after  prayers,  when  you  had  prayed  in  your 
simple  way  that  God  would  go  that  day  with 
your  boys  and  hold  their  hands  and  keep  them 
from  evil,  I  couldn't  stand  it,  and  when  we  had 
started  to  school,  I  ran  back  and  threw  my 
arms  around  you  and  told  you  about  the  wine. 

"  'Oh,  Mother  of  mine!  It  must  have  been 
almost  a  death  stroke.  I  could  feel  your  body 
grow  rigid,  and  then  your  arms  closed  about 
me,  and  held  me  frantically,  as  if  you  feared  I 
would  be  snatched  away.  For  a  long  while, 
you  said  never  a  word,  and  we  did  not  hear  the 
"last  bell,"  but  when  I  could  look  into  your 
face,  it  was  white  and  drawn  and  old  and  all 
the  soft  lines  were  gone  out  of  it,  while  your 
eyes  were  brimming  with  tears  that  dripped 
over  the  lashes  and  ran  down  your  cheeks  and 
fell  upon  your  breast. 


THE  LETTER  HE  WAS  ASHAMED  OF   57 

"  'Well,  there  was  no  school  for  me  that  day. 
Do  you  remember  how  we  talked  about  life 
and  what  it  means,  and  how  necessary  it  is 
that  a  boy  should  be  strong  enough  to  with- 
stand temptation,  and  before  the  others  came 
home,  you  took  me  to  the  bedroom  and  we 
both  prayed  about  it  until  we  found  peace? 
When  we  came  out  of  the  room  with  your  arm 
around  me,  I  knew  then  that  nothing  could 
ever  tempt  me  to  touch  liquor  of  any  kind 
again.  And,  Mother,  the  whiskey  business  is 
doomed.  Its  moorings  are  breaking  away,  and 
it  won't  be  long  now  until  communities  will  feel 
the  same  shame  at  having  a  saloon  in  their 
streets  they  would  feel  at  having  a  house  of 
leprosy  there;  and  yet  how  short  a  time  it  is 
since  no  one  dared  to  fight  the  monster  except 
a  few  praying  mothers  like  yourself,  who  never 
would  give  up  because  it  was  the  most  vicious 
enemy  of  their  sons  and  daughters. 

"  'And,  Mother  (are  all  mothers  as  wise  as 
you  have  been?)  you  remember  my  first  party 
when  I  was  to  take  my  "first  girl"?  I  remem- 
ber it  in  every  detail.  It  was  an  epoch  in  my 
life,  as  it  is  in  every  boy's.  I  was  very  nervous 
and  very  anxious  and  a  little  bit  ashamed  and 
very,  very  proud,  and  pretty  badly  frightened, 
with  all  of  it  hidden,  as  I  thought,  beneath  a 
demeanor  of  indifference  and  scorn.  But  you 


58          THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

understood  me  and  many  other  things  as  well, 
and  the  evening  before  the  party  you  had  me 
go  with  you  to  Mrs.  Homer's  house,  nearly  a 
mile   away,  and  when  we  were   returning  the 
stars  were  coming  out  and  a  soft  wind  was 
blowing,  and  we  sauntered  slowly,  chatting  in  a 
familiar  way.    You  led  the  conversation  around 
to  the  subject  of  the  party.    You  told  me  how 
glad  you  were  that  I  had  my  new  suit  and  hat 
and  tie,  and  how  pleased  you  were  that  my 
"first  girl"   was   Margaret,   who   was   a   very 
charming  girl  and  one  that  any  boy  in  town 
would  be  glad  to  go  with,  and  then  you  talked 
to  me  about  girls.    You  showed  how  they  were 
more  delicate  than  boys,  and  didn't  have  the 
rugged  strength  of  their  brothers,  and  how  they 
had  to  depend  upon  boys  and  men  for  protec- 
tion all  through  life;  and  that,  as  I  should  grow 
older,   I   would  know  them  better,   and  that 
maybe  some  time,  when  I  became  a  young 
man,  I  would  find  one  whom  I  would  love  very, 
very  much,  and  who  would  love  me,  but  be- 
fore that  time,  I  would  know  a  great  many, 
and  that  I  would  hear  boys  and  young  men 
talk  about  them;  but  to  remember  this,  that 
any  man  or  boy  who  would  make  a  remark 
about  any  woman,  which  he  would  not  make 
if  her  brother  were  present,  is  evil  of  mind  and 
a  coward  at  heart.    And  then  you  told  me  that 


THE  LETTER  HE  WAS  ASHAMED  OF    59 

I  would  find  that  girl's  love  is  different  from 
man's  love;  that  even  when  girls  are  just  in 
their  teens,  they  are  like  little  mothers,  and 
when  they  love  a  man,  they  feel  about  him  al- 
most as  a  mother  feels  about  her  baby;  that 
they  gladly  give  to  him  all  they  have  in  the 
world  and  that  they  would  lay  down  their 
lives  and  think  it  the  highest  joy  if  by  it  they 
could  serve  the  man  they  love;  and  that  a  girl 
risks  every  joy  in  life  on  love.  If  she  loves  a 
good  man  who  loves  her,  she  is  the  happiest 
being  in  the  world,  and  would  not  exchange 
her  happiness  with  the  angels  of  Heaven;  but  if 
she  gives  her  love  to  a  coarse,  or  vulgar,  or  un- 
clean man,  her  love  turns  to  poison  which  pol- 
lutes her  body  and  stains  her  soul. 

*  'Mother,  I  remember  how  I  held  my 
breath  while  you  talked,  and  I  did  not  under- 
stand all  of  it  then,  but  I  have  understood 
since,  and  when  we  approached  our  gate  you 
stopped  under  the  big  maple  tree  at  the  corner 
of  our  yard  and  laid  your  hand  on  my  head  and 
said,  "Carter,  my  boy,  you  don't  know  yet  any- 
thing about  this  thing  called  love,  but  I  want 
you  to  keep  your  mind  so  pure  and  your  body 
so  clean  that  when  you  do  find  the  young 
woman  who  can  love  you,  you  will  have  no 
hidden  sins  to  conceal  and  no  remorse  for  your 
associations  with  other  women. 


60          THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

"  '  "This  love,  son,  which  I  am  telling  you 
about,  this  great,  clean,  holy  love,  is  the  most 
wonderful  gift  of  life.  God  has  never  given  us 
anything  else  like  it.  A  man  may  win  every 
other  thing  he  wants,  great  fame,  fabulous 
wealth,  and  honor  among  the  nations,  but  if 
he  has  not  found  love  in  its  purity,  his  life  is  a 
failure.  And  the  woman  who  has  not  found  love 
has  lived  in  a  dungeon  on  bread  and  water, 
where  there  was  neither  sun  to  light  her  world 
by  day,  nor  moon  nor  stars  by  night.  If  she 
has  not  found  this  luminous  love  which  fills  all 
of  her  world  with  its  glory,  she  has  found  noth- 
ing. Motor  cars,  and  yachts,  and  mansions,  and 
costly  gems,  and  richest  raiment,  and  even  her 
children,  cannot  compensate  her  for  this  thing 
she  has  lost." 

*  'Mother  of  mine,  at  home  in  your  old  rocker, 
these  and  a  thousand  other  things  I  have  been 
thinking  about.    And  tonight,  with  college  days 
behind  and  life  before,  I  want  to  tell  you  that 
now  I  can  see  what  your  life  has  been  through 
the  years  of  suffering  and  service  and  sacrifice. 

*  'I  want  you  to  know  that  I  know  what  a 
wonderful  mother  you  are. 

'  'And,  Mother,  I  love  you.  I  love  you,  and 
shall  love  you  always.* ' 

He  stood  still  a  moment  and  then  he  con- 
tinued: 


"  Mother  of  mine,  at  home 
in  your  old  rocker  " 


62          THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

"When  I  had  finished  this  letter,  I  took  it  to 
the  office.  On  my  way  back,  I  stopped  on  the 
campus  and  began  to  think,  and  a  feeling  of 
regret  came  over  me.  I  was  ashamed  of  this 
love  letter  which  I  had  sent  to  my  mother.  I 
thought  she  would  think  it  just  the  gushing 
sentiment  of  a  boy. 

"A  few  days  later  I  received  her  reply.  I 
have  it  pinned  to  my  own.  It  is  very  short.  It 
reads: 

"  'My  dear  boy :  I  have  your  beautiful  letter. 
I  can't  write  very  much  just  now.  I  am  too 
happy,  but  I  want  you  to  know  how  my  heart 
trembled  as  I  read,  and  when  I  had  finished, 
my  eyes  were  full  of  the  tears  of  a  great  joy.  A 
letter  like  that  is  all  the  reward  I  shall  ever 
need  for  what  I  have  tried  to  do  for  you.* ' 

He  stopped  again  and  looked  at  us — not  a  man 
moved.  Then  he  held  up  the  letter  and  said: 

"Gentlemen,  there  is  the  most  fruitful  letter 
I  ever  wrote — this  love  letter  to  my  mother." 

He  paused.  We  seemed  to  be  holding  our 
breath.  Then  there  came  a  sob  from  the  packed 
house,  and  then — and  then — they  cheered  and 
cried  openly  and  were  not  ashamed.  They  rose 
and  cheered  and  cheered  again. 

After  a  while  he  raised  his  hand,  and  when 
they  were  seated,  he  said: 

"There  is  a  sequel.    Eighteen  years  later  my 


THE  LETTER  HE  WAS  ASHAMED  OF    63 

mother  died,  and  when  we  opened  the  little  box 
where  she  kept  her  treasures,  on  the  top  of  the 
package  of  certificates  of  marriage  and  birth 
and  death  and  many  other  sacred  papers,  col- 
lected through  a  long  life,  we  found  this  letter 
with  the  creases  worn  into  holes  from  much 
handling  and  the  pages  covered  with  the  stains 
of  her  precious  tears. 

"My  friends,  in  this  audience  tonight  we  have 
many  boys  in  their  teens  from  the  shops  and 
offices;  young  men  who  are  not  married,  but 
hope  to  be;  men  with  young  families  and  men 
in  middle  life  and  some  approaching  old  age. 
We  are  about  to  depart  from  this  inspiring  con- 
vention, where  we  have  inaugurated  the  great- 
est campaign  we  have  ever  attempted,  and  as 
you  go  I  want  you  to  take  with  you  this  senti- 
ment as  my  last  message: 

"When  you  are  away  from  home,  make  it  a 
habit  to  steal  off  alone  and  think  of  the  house 
where  your  mother  lives.  Let  the  picture  fill 
your  mind. 

"You  will  see  the  street  where  the  old  home 
stands. 

"You  will  see  every  tree  and  shrub. 

"You  will  follow  the  winding  paths  through 
the  tangled  grass. 

"You  will  see  the  nests  of  the  robins  and  the 
wrens. 


64          THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

"The  incense  of  the  flowers  will  come  to  you 
across  the  miles  and  the  years. 

"You  will  walk  upon  the  porch  and  open  the 
heavy  door. 

"You  will  see  the  old  familiar  family  furni- 
ture within. 

"The  pictures  from  the  walls  will  nod  and 
smile  their  welcome  and  you  will  know  them  all. 
,  "Then  listen  and  you  will  hear  the  creak  of 
your  mother's  chair  and  the  hum  of  old  home 
songs. 

"You  will  see  her  sitting  alone  thinking. 

"She  is  thinking  of  her  children. 

"She  is  thinking  of  you. 

"The  songs  will  cease  and  you  will  see  the 
tears  drop  upon  her  breast  where  she  has  pil- 
lowed your  head  a  thousand  times  and  rocked 
you  away  into  the  children's  Palace  of  Dreams. 

"And  while  you  watch,  she  will  lift  her 
swimming  eyes  toward  heaven  and  pray  to  the 
Good  God  in  whom  she  puts  her  trust,  to  walk 
with  her  boy  along  the  Highway  of  Life  unto 
the  very  end. 

"She  is  your  mother.  She  has  loved  you 
from  the  beginning.  She  loves  you  now.  She 
will  love  you  forever. 

"My  friends,  think  of  your  mother  every 
day.  Write  to  her  often  and  tell  her  how  much 
you  love  her. 


THE  LETTER  HE  WAS  ASHAMED  OF    65 

"Her  step  may  be  feeble  from  the  long  jour- 
ney she  has  taken  for  you. 

"Her  hands  may  tremble  from  the  weight  of 
years. 

"Her  eyes  may  be  dim  for  other  sights. 

"Her  ears  may  be  impaired  for  other  sounds. 

"Her  pulse  may  beat  slowly  to  other  calls, 
but  no  woman's  heart  ever  grows  old  to  love. 
It  rejoices  in  the  old,  old  story  in  the  soft  and 
tender  tones,  and  it  will  flutter  like  the  heart  of 
a  girl  when  you  tell  her  that  you  love  her. 

"Next  to  faith  in  God,  this  is  the  loftiest  sen- 
timent of  life.  And  we  know  that  the  business 
of  our  great  house  will  be  safe  in  the  hands  of 
men  who  think  of  their  mother  every  day  and 
are  trying  to  make  her  dreams  for  them  come 
true. 

"You  will  be  better  workmen  in  the  shop  and 
produce  a  better  article. 

"You  will  be  more  loyal  in  the  office  and 
develop  a  better  system. 

"You  will  sell  more  goods  in  the  field,  and 
you  will  make  our  House  known  for  its  lofty 
character  wherever  men  travel  by  land  or  sea. 

"And,  finally,  you  will  come  into  the  years 
of  maturity  or  middle  life  or  old  age  with  such 
tender  memories  as  will  fill  your  days  with 
peace  and  crown  your  life  with  glory. 

"And  now,  my  friends,  good  night!    I  have 


66          THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

talked  to  you  in  this  hour  in  a  way  that  leaves 
me  open  to  criticism.  I  have  let  you  look  into 
my  private  life,  at  personal  and  intimate  things, 
but  I  am  not  ashamed.  I  have  given  you  the 
most  important  message  I  shall  ever  give,  both 
for  yourselves  and  for  the  house  you  serve, 
because: 

"The  man  who  is  true  to  the  love  of  his 
mother  will  never  be  false  to  the  trust  of  his 
firm. 

"Gentlemen,  think  of  your  mother  every  day. 

"Write  to  her  often,  and 

"Tell  her  that  you  love  her." 


THE  SON  THOU  GAYEST  ME 


THE  SON  THOU  GAVEST  ME 

"WHERE  A  MAN'S  TREASURE  Is" — 

I  AM  sitting  in  an  easy  chair  in  our  handsome 
country  home  tonight,  with  my  wife  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  grate.  I  have  been  thinking 
of  the  life  behind  us.  We  are  not  old;  we  are 
not  young;  but  we  are  alone.  Men  call  me 
successful,  but  my  life  has  been  a  failure;  and 
I  shall  tell  you  why. 

As  I  sit  in  my  easy  chair  and  write  these 
lines,  I  look  down  the  avenue  of  time  over  all 
the  life  I  have  traveled.  I  see  myself  as  a  poor 
boy.  I  looked  upon  the  leaders  of  men,  and 
meant  to  become  one  of  them.  I  watched  the 
owners  of  great  fortunes,  and  determined  to 
make  a  fortune  for  myself.  I  heard  of  men  who 
had  become  famous,  and  I  hungered  for  fame. 
I  dedicated  my  life  to  success — success  as  I  knew 
it. 

I  went  into  business  as  a  clerk.  I  became  a 
bookkeeper,  department  manager,  then  super- 
intendent; and  at  twenty-five  I  was  receiving 
three  thousand  dollars  per  year.  I  had  not 

Copyright,  1915,  by  Hervey  Smith  McCowan 
69 


70          THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

spent  much  time  with  women  until  I  met 
Mary.  I  lost  my  head  and  heart  the  first 
time  I  saw  her.  I  was  infatuated  by  her 
beauty  and  charm.  Oh!  she  was  sweet  and 
gracious  and  winsome.  And  while  I  look  back 
upon  the  wreck  and  failure  of  my  life  I  know 
that  my  one  success  was  when  I  won  her;  and 
my  heart  melts  with  pity  and  love  as  I  look  at 
her  gazing  into  the  fire,  thinking.  She  is  always 
thinking,  and  I  know  what  she  is  thinking 
about. 

Well,  we  were  married,  and  Mary  helped  and 
encouraged.  We  prospered,  and  after  a  while 
we  had  a  boy,  and  Mary  blossomed.  Something 
came  into  her  life  with  the  boy  which  made  all 
the  girlish  blossoms  open.  It  was  as  if  God  had 
come  to  her  and  had  blessed  her  and  had  laid 
a  new  glory  upon  her. 

The  boy  grew,  and  our  fortune  grew.  I  had 
many  interests,  and  was  away  from  home  much 
of  the  time.  I  was  too  busy  to  father  the  boy. 
He  went  to  school;  at  first  he  did  well,  but  he 
got  into  bad  company,  and  in  his  teens  he 
became  wild  and  wilder.  At  first  he  humiliated 
us,  and  then  disgraced  us,  and  Mary  began  to 
fade. 

I  had  always  had  some  religion  about  me. 
It  had  never  been  used  very  much,  but  when 
our  boy  got  beyond  advice  and  persuasion  and 


THE  SON  THOU  GAYEST  ME  71 

punishment  I  began  to  look  to  God  to  save 
him,  but  I  meant  to  help. 

I  planned  to  go  out  with  our  boy  and  be  his 
companion — 

When  I  had  time. 

I  resolved  to  attend  church  services  regularly 
and  take  him  with  me — 

When  I  had  time. 

I  hoped  to  interest  him  in  young  people's 
societies — 

When  I  had  time. 

I  determined  to  secure  membership  in  the 
Young  Men's  Christian  Association  for  him  and 
for  myself — 

When  I  had  time. 

I  promised  myself  that  I  would  take  him  into 
my  confidence  and  talk  to  him  as  every  father 
should  talk  to  his  own  son — 

When  I  had  time. 

But  I  was  immersed  in  business. 

Mary,  though,  found  the  time.  She  clung  to 
God  and  refused  to  believe  that  He  would 
abandon  her  boy.  At  first  she  prayed  with  an 
aching,  breaking  heart.  She  would  not  leave 
home.  She  was  always  there  when  the  boy 
needed  her,  and  when  I  came  in  at  night  her 
face  showed  the  struggle.  She  would  smile  at 
me  and  try  to  hide  her  grief,  but  it  was  there. 
Then,  after  a  while,  her  faith  settled  into  a 


72          THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

calm  belief  that  God  would  be  her  friend,  and 
then — well,  I  don't  know  how  it  happened,  but 
one  day  our  boy  seemed  to  see  that  he  was 
breaking  his  mother's  heart.  For  a  few  days 
he  was  restless  and  anxious;  then  one  night  at 
three  o'clock  he  came  to  his  mother  and  awak- 
ened her  and  led  her  to  his  own  room  and 
said: 

"Mother,  I  have  been  all  wrong;  I  want  to 
get  right.  I  have  been  wicked;  I  want  to  be 
good.  I  have  broken  your  heart  with  grief;  I 
want  to  make  you  happy  forever.  I  have 
made  you  ashamed  of  me;  I  want  to  make  you 
proud  of  me.  Won't  you  show  me  how?" 

He  threw  his  arms  around  her  neck  as  he  had 
done  when  a  child,  and  cried  as  if  his  heart 
would  break,  while  his  mother  cried  from  pure 
joy.  It  was  the  happiest  day  of  her  life,  and 
her  heart  praised  God  for  His  goodness.  When 
his  grief  had  passed  she  talked  to  him  of  life 
and  love  and  manhood  and  God.  She  told  him 
how  she  had  prayed  and  how  God  had  promised 
to  save  her  boy,  and  when  she  was  through 
they  knelt  by  his  bed  and  prayed  together. 

What  a  wonderful  thing  is  the  heart  of  a 
mother!  What  hath  God  wrought  in  the 
mother  who  mothers! 

After  that  the  boy  was  the  joy  of  our  lives 
and  gave  promise  of  achieving  great  things. 


THE  SON  THOU  GAYEST  ME  73 

While  Mary  had  saved  our  boy,  I  had  saved  a 
fortune  and  had  become  a  banker.  My  business 
grew  and  grew.  My  name  was  often  in  the 
papers,  and  I  dealt  with  the  kings  of  trade.  My 
hours  at  home  were  rare.  Money  was  my  Mas- 
ter, and  gold  was  my  God,  but  I  loved  Mary — 

When  I  had  time. 

The  boy  grew  and  went  to  college,  and  came 
to  have  an  idolatrous  love  for  me.  He  thought 
his  father  the  greatest  man  in  the  world.  When 
at  home  for  vacation  he  haunted  the  office.  He 
wanted  to  be  with  me  always,  and  I  loved  him, 
too — 

When  I  had  time. 

As  I  had  grown  older  and  affairs  multiplied 
and  grave  responsibilities  came  I  began  to  think 
more  of  religion.  I  prayed  oftener  and  saw  the 
great  need  of  God  in  business,  and  many  times 
I  called  to  Him  and  He  answered  me.  He  gave 
me  commercial  wisdom,  and  I  prayed  to  Him 
daily  about  my  business  affairs,  and  in  a  way  I 
came  to  love  Him,  too — 

When  I  had  time. 

Well,  the  panic  came  which  shook  business 
and  banks  to  their  foundations.  Many  old 
houses  went  down  and  dragged  famous  names 
with  them,  and  then  I  went  to  God  as  I  had 
never  gone  to  Him  before. 

When  the  panic  was  at  its  worst  we  received 


74          THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

a  wire  that  our  boy  was  sick  and  was  being  sent 
home.  He  developed  a  strange  mania  for  me  in 
his  sickness.  He  wanted  his  mother  by  him 
every  minute,  but  he  wanted  me  to  hold  his 
hand.  When  he  was  restless  it  soothed  him, 
and  he  would  sink  from  the  wildest  delirium  to 
the  most  peaceful  slumber  while  I  held  his  hand. 

The  doctor  said  he  was  in  a  serious  condition, 
but  that  he  hoped  to  save  him  if  we  could  calm 
him  and  make  him  sleep  without  opiates.  My 
days  and  nights  were  full,  for  I  stayed  at  the 
bank  by  day  and  by  the  bed  by  night.  I 
prayed  often;  I  prayed  for  the  boy;  I  prayed 
for  the  business,  but  I  found  that  my  mind  in 
prayer  would  wander  from  the  bed  to  the  bank. 
It  was  natural,  was  it  not,  since  for  twenty  years 
I  had  thought  one  hundred  times  of  business 
where  I  had  thought  once  of  the  boy? 

The  critical  period  in  the  boy's  illness  came 
the  very  day  of  the  most  critical  condition  at 
the  bank.  All  night  I  had  kept  him  calm  by 
sitting  in  a  chair  beside  the  bed,  holding  the 
slender  hand  in  mine.  The  doctor  came  early. 
He  said  the  boy  was  about  holding  his  own, 
but  must  be  kept  as  quiet  as  possible  at  any 
cost.  Mary  brought  my  breakfast  and  I  still 
sat  by  the  bed.  She  often  went  into  her  own 
room,  and  I  knew  she  was  talking  with  God. 
Until  ten  o'clock  I  kept  our  boy  asleep.  Then 


/A* 


"Her  eyes  looked  up  into 
mine  and  implored  me 
not  to  go" 


76          THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

a  servant  came  in  and  said  the  bank  wanted 
me.  A  feeling  of  fear  swept  over  me  as  I  went 
to  the  'phone.  They  were  helpless  and  begged 
me  to  come  at  once. 

I  felt  Mary's  hand  on  my  sleeve,  and  her 
eyes  looked  up  into  mine  and  implored  me  not 
to  go.  Our  boy  had  become  restless  at  my 
absence.  I  put  my  arm  around  her  and  we 
went  into  her  room,  and  I  told  her  the  bank 
might  fail  if  I  did  not  go;  that  I  would  come 
back  as  soon  as  possible. 

I  was  about  to  go  out  when  she  caught  my 
hand  and  said:  "Oh,  David,  let  us  pray  for  our 
boy  before  you  go."  So  we  knelt  right  there 
with  my  arm  around  her  and  prayed  to  the 
Good  Lord  to  save  our  boy.  When  we  arose 
her  eyes  were  filled  with  tears,  and  she  hid  her 
face  on  my  breast  and  wept  great  sobs.  I  com- 
forted her  after  a  while  and  started  out.  She 
caught  my  hand  and  led  me  through  the  sick- 
room, and  we  looked  down  at  our  only  child. 
His  delirium  was  rising  again.  I  picked  up  his 
hand  and  held  it  until  he  fell  asleep,  then  I 
went  out.  At  the  steps  I  kissed  Mary  good-by, 
telling  her  I  would  come  home  as  soon  as  I 
could  get  away. 

When  I  arrived  at  the  bank  the  officers  were 
in  secret  session.  I  went  in  and  listened  to  the 
reports.  We  needed  nearly  one-half  million  dol- 


THE  SON  THOU  GAVEST  ME  77 

lars  to  steady  the  bank  and  restore  confidence. 
It  was  not  in  sight  when  we  adjourned.  I  went 
to  my  office  and  locked  the  door.  I  stood  by 
my  chair  for  a  few  minutes.  The  picture  of  my 
life  passed  before  me,  and  I  saw  this  monument 
which  I  had  built  about  to  be  destroyed.  I  fell 
on  my  knees  and  prayed  as  I  had  never  prayed, 
and  not  once  in  my  prayer  did  I  think  of  the 
boy  at  home.  I  asked  God  to  save  this  palace 
of  commerce.  "Oh,  God,"  I  cried,  "save  the 
bank  at  any  cost,  and  I  swear  to  you  that  I 
will  follow  you  all  the  days  of  my  life." 

My  secretary  knocked  at  the  door.  I  arose 
and  opened  it,  and  the  fight  for  the  bank  began. 
The  things  we  did  that  day  are  still  talked  of 
among  bankers.  My  mind  had  never  been  so 
clear,  nor  my  judgment  so  sane. 

Every  hour  Mary  sent  a  message  from  the 
sick-room:  "About  the  same,  but  restless." 
"Restless,  come  home  when  you  can."  "Rest- 
less, he  calls  for  you." 

And  so  the  day  wore  on.  At  two-thirty  I 
got  hold  of  a  client  who  could  furnish  the 
money.  Five  hundred  thousand  he  brought  me, 
and  the  bank  was  saved.  I  called  the  officers 
into  the  directors'  room.  They  forgot  the  ter- 
rors of  the  day  and  almost  smothered  me  with 
congratulations. 

In  the  midst  of   this  jubilee  my  secretary 


78          THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

brought  me  Mary's  'phone  message:  "Much 
weaker.  Come  as  soon  as  you  can." 

I  got  into  my  coat  and  had  reached  the 
door  when  a  boy  called  me  to  the  'phone.  It 
was  the  doctor.  He  said  in  a  grave  voice:  "I 
am  sorry  to  give  you  this  message,  but  your 
son  is  dead." 

They  took  me  home  after  a  while.  On  the 
way  I  remembered  the  two  prayers.  In  one  I 
had  prayed  God  to 'help  my  son,  then  had  risen 
and  left  my  own  boy  sick  unto  death  to  make 
the  fight  alone;  and  I  knew  in  my  heart  that  if 
I  had  stayed  with  him  he  would  have  lived. 
In  the  other  I  had  called  on  God,  then  had 
risen  and  marshalled  all  the  resources  of  the 
great  city  to  help  me.  God  answered  the 
prayer  for  which  I  worked. 

And  so  Mary  and  I  sit  tonight  in  our  country 
home.  The  fire  glows  in  the  grate.  She  is 
thinking — always  thinking — and  I  know  the  pic- 
tures which  flit  through  her  mind. 

And  I,  I  look  back  to  the  day  of  doom,  and  I 
think  of  the  two  prayers.  My  heart  bleeds 
when  I  remember  that  God  answered  my  soul- 
cry  that  day. 

The  snow  is  falling  without.  It  lies  like  a 
blanket  covering  hill  and  vale.  It  hangs  from 
the  trees  like  cotton  from  the  open  boll.  I  can 
see  it  banking  against  the  shrubs  and  the  fence. 


THE  SON  THOU  GAYEST  ME  79 

The  wind  sighs  softly,  but  the  house  is  very 
still.  There  is  no  voice  of  children;  there  will 
be  none  of  grandchildren.  The  past  is  past; 
there  will  be  no  future  here. 

The  bank  is  solid  as  the  mountain. 

The  grave  holds  its  own. 

Why  should  I  complain?  Have  I  not  re- 
ceived that  for  which  I  prayed?  Do  I  not 
have  that  for  which  I  labored? 

But  the  house  is  still — very  still.  I  seem  to 
be  bleeding  somewhere  within. 

And  now  I  could  love  my  boy  if  I  had  him. 
I'd  find  the  time.  I'd  take  the  time. 

For  what  doth  it  profit  a  man  if  he  owns  the 
whole  world  and  loses  his  own  son?  Or  what 
will  a  man  give  in  exchange  for  his  son? 


THE  HAPPIEST  WOMAN  IN  THE 
WORLD 


THE  HAPPIEST  WOMAN  IN  THE 
WORLD 

OUR  old  doctor  had  told  me  stories  from 
the  days  of  my  childhood,  but  not  one 
which  would  reveal  the  secrets  of  his  patients, 
until  he  told  this  one  I  am  telling  you  now.  I 
was  sitting  with  him  on  his  wide  veranda  after 
the  Sunday  evening  service.  Our  hearts  were 
full  to  overflowing.  The  church  had  been 
packed  with  a  great  multitude  and  many  lis- 
tened from  without.  The  sermon  had  been 
upon  the  Resurrection  of  Jesus.  The  white- 
haired  minister  who  had  preached  to  our  peo- 
ple for  more  than  thirty  years  seemed  inspired 
as  he  traced  the  life  of  his  Master  through  its 
joys  and  sorrows,  its  struggles  and  tragedies 
and  consuming  love,  and  when  he  came  to  the 
Resurrection  he  turned  his  fine  old  face  toward 
Heaven  and  with  the  tears  streaming  down  his 
cheeks  and  his  arms  uplifted  he  cried:  "Oh  our 
Father  in  heaven,  we  thank  Thee  for  this 
Light  of  the  World  which  burst  from  the  Tomb 
of  Joseph  to  light  us  more  and  more  unto  the 
Perfect  Day.  Oh  we  thank  Thee!  We  thank 
Thee!  We  thank  Thee  for  the  Resurrection 


84          THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

and  the  Life  which  fill  all  the  world  with  Thy 
Glory." 

Our  old  minister  was  not  only  a  remarkable 
man,  but  a  man  of  God,  and  when  he  told  the 
story  of  the  Love-Triumphs  of  his  Master  his 
face  shone  with  a  wonderful  light,  his  voice  rang 
with  a  strange  authority  and  he  could  have  led 
us,  like  some  ancient  crusader,  back  to  the  Holy 
Land  to  take  it  and  possess  it  in  the  name  of 
his  Lord.  When  he  had  finished  we  sat  in  a 
trance,  but  the  service  was  not  closed.  Without 
an  introduction  a  lady  arose  in  the  choir  and 
sang,  "The  Holy  City."  There  was  a  quality 
in  her  voice  which  I  had  never  heard  in  any 
human  voice  before.  Our  hearts  trembled  in 
response  and  we  forgot  the  old  church  and  the 
town  in  which  we  lived  while  she  led  us  into 
strange  lands  among  strange  scenes,  and  when 
she  came  to  the  climax:  "Jerusalem,  Jerusalem, 
sing  for  the  night  is  o'er,"  it  seemed  as  if  the 
broken  hearts  of  the  world  had  been  healed  and 
were  joining  in  this  song  of  triumph  and  of 
praise.  When  she  had  closed,  the  multitude 
was  suffused  in  tears  or  convulsed  with  sobs. 
She  had  broken  our  hearts  with  tenderness. 

The  minister  lifted  his  hand  and  dismissed 
us:  "And  now  may  the  Lord  bless  thee,  and 
keep  thee,  and  make  His  face  to  shine  upon  thee, 
and  be  gracious  unto  thee,  and  give  thee  peace." 


HAPPIEST  WOMAN  IN  THE  WORLD    85 

Mrs.  Browning,  the  singer,  had  been  brought 
up  among  us,  but  had  gone  to  college,  and  had 
married,  and  no  one  knew  much  of  her,  except 
that  she  had  had  great  sorrow.  Only  the  doc- 
tor knew  the  story  of  her  life  and  he  had  never 
told. 

On  this  night  we  sat  on  his  porch,  our  hearts 
still  tender  from  the  evening  service.  For  a 
long  while  we  were  silent  and  then  the  doctor 
turned  to  me  and  said:  "I  am  going  to  break 
the  rule  of  my  life  and  tell  you  a  story  about 
one  of  my  patients.  I  am  going  to  tell  you 
about  'the  happiest  woman  in  the  world.' ' 

But  still  he  sat  for  a  long  while  saying 
nothing,  his  eyes  far  away  as  if  he  were  follow- 
ing strange  scenes,  and  then  he  came  back  and 
began  his  story : 

"The  lady  who  sang  tonight  is  an  old  friend 
of  mine,"  he  said.  "I  have  known  her  always. 
I  was  with  her  mother  when  the  child  was 
born.  She  had  a  crown  of  yellow  hair  and  the 
nurse  called  her  the  'Golden  Treasure/  and 
from  this  the  family  named  her  Golden  though 
her  hair  changed  to  brown. 

"She  was  a  happy  baby  and  a  happy  child 
and  made  every  one  around  her  happy,  as  some 
children  do.  She  had  a  passion  for  loving  old 
ladies.  If  she  found  a  stray  curl  blowing  loose 
on  some  old  lady's  head,  she  would  slip  up  and 


86  THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

lift  the  curl  and  plant  a  kiss  on  the  neck  be- 
neath it.  She  had  the  sweetest  way  of  talking 
to  them  and  of  coddling  and  petting  them,  and 
as  she  grew  older  she  grew  happier,  and  devel- 
oped a  loveliness  I  have  never  seen  in  any  other 
girl  of  her  age.  Her  mother  was  wise  with  her 
and  taught  her  all  the  practical  duties  of  keep- 
ing a  house  and  making  a  home. 

"When  she  was  eighteen  she  was  the  pride 
of  the  women  and  the  rage  of  the  men.  We 
feared  that  so  much  adulation  might]  spoil  her, 
but  she  was  not  spoilable.  She  seemed  to  bless 
every  one  she  touched  with  sweetness  and  joy, 
and  she  developed  a  positive  genius  for  happi- 
ness. 

"I  had  watched  her  grow,  but  had  never 
discovered  this  hunger  in  her  until  she  was 
almost  a  young  lady.  She  was  standing  at  her 
gate  one  evening  as  I  approached  her  on  my 
way  home.  I  stopped  and  laid  my  hand  upon 
her  brown  curls  and  said:  'Well,  Golden,  what 
has  happened?  You  look  as  cross  as  a  crow.' 

;  'Why  doctor,'  she  replied,  'you  are  teasing 
me.  I  am  sure  that  I  don't  look  cross.  I  am 
the  happiest  girl  in  town.  I  am  too  happy. 
It  can't  last.  I  have  never  had  a  sorrow  and 
everybody  blesses  me  with  kindness.  There 
never  was  a  girl  who  had  so  much  to  thank  God 
for.  Look  at  my  pretty  home.  My  mother  is 


HAPPIEST  WOMAN  IN  THE  WORLD    87 

a  darling.  My  father  is  a  dear  and  we  are  all 
happy  together.  I  ought  to  sing  hallelujahs  the 
whole  day  through.  It  can't  last,  can  it,  doc- 
tor? You  are  an  old  man  and  you  have  known 
so  many  people;  did  you  ever  know  anyone 
who  was  always  happy?' 

*  'No,  Golden,'  I  said,  'I  have  never  seen 
anyone  live  a  life  without  sorrow,  and  you  will 
have  yours,  but  sometimes  sorrow  glorifies  hap- 
piness and  I  hope  when  yours  comes  that  you 
may  find  the  Glory  of  God  at  the  heart  of  it.' 

"Well,  her  sorrow  came  only  too  soon.  Her 
mother  passed  away  within  the  year.  I  thought 
the  child  would  die  of  grief,  but  she  held  to  her 
God  and  when  she  came  out  of  it  she  had  a 
happiness  which  was  as  unselfish  as  the  smile 
of  a  child,  and  it  crowned  her  beauty  with  a 
strange  glory. 

"There  was  not  a  young  man  who  knew  her 
who  would  not  have  laid  down  his  life  for  her, 
but  she  had  never  loved  and  her  heart  was  still 
free  when  she  went  to  college,  but  there  she 
met  him.  I  had  always  been  afraid  of  her  love 
affairs,  because  I  knew  that  when  she  did  love, 
she  would  love  some  man  to  madness,  and  so 
when  I  learned  that  she  was  keeping  company 
with  a  young  fellow,  I  went  out  to  the  college 
to  look  him  over. 

"There  was  nothing  very  remarkable  about 


88          THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

him.  He  had  the  reputation  of  being  a  fine, 
clean  chap,  rather  impractical,  a  good  deal  of 
a  dreamer,  with  no  conspicuous  ability.  I 
didn't  think  he  was  worthy  of  her,  but  she  was 
as  proud  of  him  as  a  young  mother  of  her  first 
baby,  and  no  doubt  I  was  a  prejudiced  judge. 
Meanwhile  Golden  had  blossomed  into  a  woman, 
and  had  found  a  teacher  in  the  conservatory 
who  understood  and  developed  her  voice  until 
she  became  a  very  fine  singer.  She  was  not  a 
genius  perhaps,  but  she  was  very  nearly  one. 
In  singing  popular  songs  the  charm  of  her 
voice  did  not  appear,  but  in  anthems  and 
hymns  and  songs  of  prayer  and  praise  there 
was  some  quality  in  her  voice  which  melted  the 
human  heart  to  tears. 

"Well,  they  graduated  and  a  year  or  two 
later  they  were  married.  No  doubt  I  had  been 
mistaken  in  my  estimate  of  young  Browning, 
because  he  began  at  once  to  develop.  What- 
ever weakness  he  had  had  for  epigrams  and 
poetry  he  forgot.  He  studied  architecture  and 
building  and  was  so  successful  that  within  a 
few  years  he  was  worth  a  comfortable  fortune 
and  their  infatuation  still  held.  They  were  not 
spoiled  and  were  always  together,  and  they 
held  a  simple  sane  religion  which  pervaded  all 
of  their  lives,  and  they  had  two  children  to 
bless  their  home. 


HAPPIEST  WOMAN  IN  THE  WORLD    89 

"Golden's  voice  improved  as  she  grew  older. 
She  received  many  flattering  offers  to  sing,  but 
always  she  just  cuddled  up  close  to  her  husband 
and  said,  'I  am  glad  God  has  put  a  bird  in  my 
throat,  Gordon,  but  it  is  just  for  you  and  for 
the  children  and  for  our  friends,  and  the  sick. 
Nothing  could  induce  me  to  leave  our  happy 
home.' 

"She  did  make  two  exceptions.  She  would 
sing  in  the  church  sometimes  and  always  to  the 
sick  when  they  wanted  her,  and  many  men  and 
women  and  children  have  gone  to  their  last 
sleep  believing  they  heard  the  angels  from  the 
other  shore. 

"It  happened  that  I  was  in  their  city  when 
they  had  been  married  six  or  seven  years.  I 
had  been  out  to  dinner  and  then  we  heard 
Melba  and  after  the  concert  we  went  to  a  cafe 
for  refreshments.  We  were  about  to  leave  when 
Gordon  met  some  friends  and  Golden  and  I 
were  alone  and  I  said  to  her:  'Golden,  you  do 
seem  happy  and  you  grow  more  beautiful  every 
day.  Are  you  as  happy  as  you  look?* 

"  'Oh  doctor,'  she  exclaimed,  'I  am  the  hap- 
piest woman  in  the  world.  I  have  my  babies 
and  Gordon  and  health  for  all  of  us.  But, 
doctor,  I  am  terrified  sometimes,  when  I  think 
of  the  things  which  might  happen.  Such  hap- 
piness can't  last,  can  it,  doctor?' 


90          THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

"  'I  hope  yours  may  hold  for  many  years, 
Golden,'  I  replied  as  her  husband  came  back 
to  us. 

"We  separated  for  the  night.  I  went  to  the 
hotel  expecting  to  leave  early  the  next  morning. 
But  about  two  o'clock  I  was  called  to  the 
phone  where  I  recognized  Gordon's  voice. 

"  'Hello,  doctor,'  he  called;  'there  is  some- 
thing wrong  with  Golden.  Could  you  come 
out?' 

"I  didn't  ask  any  questions,  but  went  as  fast 
as  a  car  could  carry  me.  Gordon  met  me  at 
the  door.  He  was  white  and  frightened. 

"  'What  is  the  matter?'  I  asked. 

'  'I  don't  know;  Golden  can't  talk.' 

"I  went  into  the  living  room  where  she  was 
sitting  in  a  big  chair.  She  smiled  and  arose  as 
I  went  to  her.  She  pointed  to  her  throat  and 
tried  to  speak,  but  could  not  utter  a  sound. 

"I  examined  her  closely.  She  seemed  per- 
fectly well  in  every  other  way,  but  she  had 
lost  her  voice.  In  my  practice  I  had  never  had 
a  case  like  it.  I  called  the  best  specialist  in  the 
city  to  come  out  at  once.  He  looked  her  over 
carefully,  then  told  them  to  go  to  bed,  that  he 
would  see  them  early  in  the  morning. 

"When  we  had  climbed  into  his  car  the 
specialist  said:  'She  will  never  speak  again; 
her  vocal  cords  are  paralyzed.' 


HAPPIEST  WOMAN  IN  THE  WORLD    91 

"I  made  no  reply.  He  let  me  out  at  my 
hotel  and  I  lay  on  my  bed  without  sleeping, 
looking  into  the  future,  at  the  desolation  before 
her.  She  was  as  dear  to  me  as  my  own  child. 
I  looked  through  the  eyes  of  the  physician  and 
the  eyes  of  love  and  as  I  saw  the  horror  of  it  all, 
it  seemed  to  me  that  I  had  received  a  fatal 
wound  and  that  my  life  was  slowly  ebbing  away. 

"I  saw  it  all: 

"She  would  be  a  ghost  in  her  own  house. 

"Her  voice  would  never  be  heard  in  her 
home. 

"She  would  never  call  to  her  husband. 

"She  would  never  coo  to  her  babies. 

"She  would  never  hum  the  sweet  home  songs. 

"She  would  never  sing  those  rare  melodies 
for  her  family  and  friends. 

"She  would  never  move  the  multitude  and 
flood  them  with  tenderness. 

""There  would  be  no  more  quiet  talks  at  twi- 
light, and  under  the  stars. 

"There  would  be  no  more  love  in  the  old,  old 
tones. 

"She  would  never  laugh. 

"She  would  never  cry. 

"She  loved  with  the  passion  of  an  angel,  but 
love's  voice  was  dead. 

"She  was  a  mother,  but  she  would  never 
prattle  to  her  children. 


92          THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

"She  was  a  lute  without  a  voice. 

"She  was  a  harp  without  a  sound. 

"She  was  a  song  bird  without  a  song. 

"No  more  repartee. 

"No  flashes  of  wit. 

"No  word  of  kindness  or  of  courage. 

"The  Golden  I  had  known  was  dead  and  I 
prayed  to  the  Good  Lord  to  take  her  body 
since  she  had  lost  her  joy. 

"We  waited  until  the  specialist  was  certain 
there  could  be  no  hope  of  recovery.  When  we 
had  to  tell  Golden  we  feared  that  it  would 
break  her  spirit,  but  she  only  smiled  and  wrote 
on  a  piece  of  paper:  'There  is  a  God  of  Love 
who  will  guard  His  children.' 

"But  there  were  days  which  followed  when 
we  feared  for  her  sanity.  Gordon  sold  out  his 
business  and  invested  his  money  in  what  were 
deemed  gilt  edge  securities  and  stayed  at  home 
with  his  family.  It  was  then  that  the  great 
soul  of  him  proved  his  worth.  He  was  as 
gentle  as  a  woman,  and  cared  for  her  as  he 
would  have  cared  for  a  child.  He  read  every- 
thing to  be  found  upon  the  malady  which  had 
overwhelmed  them;  and  wherever  he  could  learn 
of  a  specialist  in  such  diseases,  he  took  her  to 
see  him.  They  went  to  London  and  Berlin  and 
Leipsic  and  then  they  returned  home  without 
help  and  without  hope.  Her  health  began  to 


HAPPIEST  WOMAN  IN  THE  WORLD    93 

fail  and  a  black  gloom  settled  over  them.  Her 
piano  was  her  only  consolation.  Gordon  took 
her  to  hear  every  singer  who  came  within 
reasonable  distance  and  when  we  had  all  lost 
hope  of  any  happiness  for  her  she  turned  to 
Christian  songs  and  hymns  of  praise.  Then 
she  began  to  pray  much  of  the  time  and  she 
said  to  Gordon:  'All  things  are  possible  to  our 
Heavenly  Father.' 

"That  was  the  turning  point  and  while  it 
did  not  affect  her  speech,  it  affected  her  men- 
tal condition  and  she  came  into  a  strange  hap- 
piness. She  spent  many  hours  each  day  at  the 
piano,  often  improvising  as  she  played.  They 
were  always  hymns  and  songs  of  praise  and 
glory  to  God  for  His  goodness.  All  the  music 
of  the  voice  which  had  been  stilled,  the  music 
of  her  great  love  which  never  found  expression, 
with  the  tenderness  of  her  mother's  love  for 
her  babies,  came  out  in  this  passionate  music 
which  poured  from  the  piano  in  tides  of  en- 
chanting beauty  and  enthralling  charm.  It 
would  melt  one  to  tears  or  give  one  courage  to 
lay  down  one's  life  for  his  friends.  It  has  seemed 
to  me  as  I  have  listened  that  there  never  was  such 
music  in  heaven  or  earth  as  that  which  flooded 
her  home  when  her  heart  was  breaking.  She 
never  wrote  this  music  out  and  if  there  were 
words  we  did  not  know  it. 


94          THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

"I  asked  her  why  she  did  not  have  the  music 
printed  and  she  replied  by  writing: 

"  'Oh  no,  these  are  my  prayers  and  only  the 
Father  could  understand  them.' 

"In  all  my  practice  I  have  never  seen  a  house 
of  tragedy  like  the  Browning  home,  but  it  was 
to  be  worse,  and  worse  yet  and  still  worse 
before  the  end  came. 

"Up  to  this  time  they  had  had  every  com- 
fort, but  one  day  without  warning  the  securi- 
ties which  Gordon  had  bought  with  his  fortune 
became  valueless  and  he  was  a  poor  man.  For 
one  day  only  he  was  stunned.  The  next  he 
went  into  his  old  office  and  asked  his  successors 
to  let  him  have  such  work  as  he  could  do  at 
home.  When  Golden  heard  of  their  loss  she 
dismissed  her  servants  and  did  all  of  her  own 
work,  even  to  the  washing.  Sometimes  at  the 
end  of  the  month  they  met  their  bills  and 
sometimes  they  failed.  The  day  came  when 
they  had  nothing  but  their  little  family  and 
their  great  love,  and  the  piano.  They  moved 
into  a  small  cottage  in  the  outskirts  of  the 
city  and  faced  a  future  as  black  as  night,  but  it 
was  to  be  blacker  yet. 

"Gordon  was  walking  out  from  the  city  one 
night  when  a  driver  lost  control  of  his  car  and 
the  car  struck  him,  throwing  him  nearly  thirty 
feet.  They  picked  him  up  for  dead  and  took 


HAPPIEST  WOMAN  IN  THE  WORLD    95 

him  home,  and  sent  for  the  doctor.  There  was 
no  hope  of  recovery.  It  seemed  only  a  question 
of  a  few  hours.  When  the  doctor  was  gone,  she 
went  into  the  room  where  her  husband  lay  and 
locked  the  door.  She  went  over  to  the  bed  and 
took  his  hand  and  looked  at  the  wreck  of  her 
lover  and  her  happiness.  She  could  not  cry. 
She  could  not  talk  to  him.  Great  sobs  shook 
her,  but  no  sound  came  from  the  voiceless 
throat.  She  kneeled  by  the  bed  and  prayed 
to  the  Great  God  in  whom  she  believed.  Then 
suddenly  she  arose  and  fled  to  the  piano  and 
began  to  play  those  wonderful  prayers  which 
nobody  knew  but  herself  and  God.  They  were 
the  cry  of  a  broken  heart.  But  after  a  while 
she  became  calm,  and  wired  to  me  to  come  to 
her. 

"Gordon  had  not  yet  regained  consciousness. 
The  mystery  was  that  he  lived  at  all,  but  day 
after  day  the  slender  thread  of  life  held,  though 
each  hour  seemed  weaker  than  before.  Golden 
would  not  leave  his  room.  He  seemed  quieter 
when  she  was  near  and  so  she  knelt  by  his  bed 
and  held  his  hand.  Sometimes  he  was  delirious 
and  talked  about  strange  things  which  we  did 
not  understand,  but  one  day  he  whispered: 
'Golden,  sing-sing-sing-the-H-O-L-Y  C-I-T-Y.' 

"She  turned  her  face  to  me  with  such  a  look 
of  terror  as  I  hope  never  to  see  in  a  human  face 


96          THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

again.  He  was  dying  and  calling  upon  her  to  do 
the  one  thing  which  she  could  not  do.  He  re- 
peated the  request.  No  words  of  mine  could 
picture  the  agony  of  her  face  and  eyes.  Her 
lover  was  calling  and  she  could  not  answer. 
Then  she  ran  to  the  piano  and  played  the  tune 
— played  it  as  I  have  never  heard  it  played  in 
this  world.  At  first  he  seemed  to  listen  and 
then  he  wandered  off  into  that  mysterious  land 
of  delirium. 

"The  same  scene  was  enacted  the  next  day 
and  the  next  and  when  she  had  come  back  on 
the  third  day  I  said  to  her:  'Golden,  I  would 
give  every  possession  I  have  in  the  world  if 
you  could  sing  that  song  to  him  today,'  and  she 
wrote,  'Oh  if  I  could  I  would  die  so  happy.' 
During  these  days  I  think  she  prayed  every 
minute.  If  she  slept  I  never  knew  it  and  why 
Gordon  lived  no  one  knew. 

"On  the  fourth  day  about  the  same  time,  he 
seemed  to  rally  a  little  and  he  said  again: 
'Golden,  s-s-s-sing,  the  H-O-L-Y  C-I-T-Y,'  and 
then  the  miracle  happened — without  effort  or 
excitement  she  began  to  sing: 

'Last  night  I  lay  a  sleeping.     There  came  a 

dream  so  fair; 
I  stood  in  Old  Jerusalem  beside  the  Temple 

there. 


"Without  effort  or  excite- 
ment she  began  to  sing  " 


98          THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

I  heard  the  children  singing,  and  ever  as  they 

sang, 
Methought  the  voice  of  Angels  from  Heaven 

in  answer  rang, 
Jerusalem,  Jerusalem,  lift  up  your  gates  and 

sing; 

Hosanna  in  the  highest,  Hosanna  to  your 
King. 

'And  then  methought  my  dream  was  changed. 

The  streets  no  longer  rang. 
Hushed  were  the  glad  Hosannas,  the  little  chil- 
dren sang. 
The  Sun  grew  black  with  mystery,  the  morn 

was  cold  and  chill, 
As  the  shadow  of  a  Cross  arose  upon  a  lonely 

hill. 
Jerusalem,  Jerusalem,  hark  how  the  Angels 

sing: 

Hosanna  in  the  highest,  Hosanna  to  your 
King. 

'And  once  again  the  scene  was  changed.    New 

Earth  there  seemed  to  be. 
I  saw  the  Holy  City  beside  the  tideless  sea. 
The  light  of  God  was  on  its  streets.    The  gates 

were  opened  wide, 
And  all  who  would  might  enter,  and  no  one 

was  denied. 


HAPPIEST  WOMAN  IN  THE  WORLD    99 

No  need  of  moon  or  stars  by  night,  nor  sun  to 

shine  by  day; 
It  was  the  New  Jerusalem  that  would  not  pass 

away. 
Jerusalem,  Jerusalem,  sing,  for  the  night  is 

o'er. 
Hosanna  in  the  highest,  Hosanna  for  ever 

more. 
Hosanna  in  the  highest,  Hosanna  for  ever 

more.' 

r 

— "Joy  and  thanksgiving,  tears  and  sobs  and 
the  cry  of  a  breaking  heart  were  in  her  voice. 
Gordon  opened  his  eyes  and  listened  until  she 
had  finished  and  then  he  smiled  and  sank  into  a 
deep  slumber,  while  Golden  ran  to  the  piano 
and  played  and  sang  her  prayers  for  an  hour 
with  her  pent-up  love  flowing  in  tides  of  thanks- 
giving up  to  the  throne  of  God. 

"Day  after  day  she  sang  to  him  and  day 
after  day  he  grew  stronger  until  she  had  brought 
him  back  to  health  once  more. 

"When  I  was  about  to  leave,  I  went  in  and 
bade  Gordon  good-by,  and  when  I  left  the 
house  Golden  came  with  me  to  the  gate,  where 
we  stopped  and  turned  to  look  at  the  little  cot- 
tage where  such  strange  things  had  happened. 

"  'There  is  the  house  of  miracles,  Golden,'  I 
said.  'Did  you  ever  lose  faith?' 


100        THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

"She  watched  the  floating  clouds  a  few  mo- 
ments, while  a  glow  of  tenderness  spread  over 
her  face  and  then  she  said:  'Well,  doctor,  every 
day  I  said  to  my  Heavenly  Father — "Jesus 
promised  us  that  we  could  ask  what  we  would 
in  His  name,  believing,  and  it  should  be 
granted,"  and  so  I  just  asked  for  the  thing 
which  would  bring  Gordon  back  to  us,  and 
you  see,  doctor,  you  see  because  I  would  not 
let  Him  go,  He  gave  me  more  than  I  have 
asked  Him  for.' 

"I  climbed  into  the  car  and  we  started  for 
the  city.  When  we  were  on  the  top  of  the  hill, 
I  looked  back.  Golden  was  still  standing  at 
the  gate.  I  waved  my  hand  in  farewell  and 
she  waved  her  handkerchief  in  reply  and  I 
said: 

"  'What  measure  can  measure  the  love  of  a 
woman?' ' 

The  old  doctor  had  stopped  and  we  sat  in 
silence  for  a  long  while;  then  we  heard  the  latch 
of  the  gate  click  and  a  lady  came  up  the  walk 
among  the  flowers.  It  was  the  lady — the  singer 
at  the  service — the  Golden  Browning  of  the 
story  he  had  just  told  me.  The  doctor  went 
down  the  walk  to  meet  her  and  led  her  into  his 
office.  They  talked  for  half  an  hour  and  when 
they  came  out  she  was  holding  his  hand. 

At  the  steps  she  turned  to  bid  him  good-by. 


HAPPIEST  WOMAN  IN  THE  WORLD    101 

He  laid  his  other  hand  upon  her  shoulder  and 
said:  "Golden,  it  was  charming  of  you  to  come 
this  long  way  from  the  main  line  to  see  your 
old  doctor." 

"I  had  to  come,"  she  replied.  "I  could  not 
pass  through  the  State  and  not  come  to  see 
you." 

"And  are  you  happy,  Golden?"  he  asked. 

"Oh,  doctor,"  she  replied,  "I  am  the  hap- 
piest woman  in  the  world.  When  I  was  only  a 
girl,  you  said  to  me,  'WHhen  sorrow  comes  to  you, 
Golden,  I  hope  you  will  find  God  at  the  heart 
of  it!'  Well,  I  found  Him,  and  when  there 
seemed  no  hope,  I  got  so  close  to  Him  that  I 
found  that  Jesus  was  surely  the  Light  of  the 
World.  And  now  though  there  is  one  of  us  in 
heaven  and  three  of  us  here,  we  do  not  mourn. 
Sorrow  has  glorified  happiness  and  we  seem  to 
be  living  in  both  worlds." 

"Of  all  the  tragedies  I  ever  knew,  Golden, 
the  tragedy  in  your  little  cottage  was  the  sad- 
dest," he  said. 

"Oh  yes,  oh  yes,  I  know,  doctor.  It  was  the 
great  price  we  paid  for  the  joy  which  followed, 
just  as  Jesus  paid  the  price  for  His  Joy  in  the 
salvation  of  the  world.  And,  doctor,  Gordon 
and  I  would  pay  the  price  again  for  the  bless- 
ings and  great  love  it  has  brought  us.  And, 
doctor,  we  want  you  to  be  happy  too.  You 


102        THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

have  blessed  this  town  for  sixty  years;  working 
with  God  you  saved  my  husband  and  my  hap- 
piness. Every  day  of  my  life  I  pray  for  you, 
and  I  know  that  we  can  never  pay  the  great 
debt  of  love  we  owe  to  you." 

"Give  the  glory  to  God,  Golden;  you  and 
Gordon  were  beyond  the  aid  of  doctors,"  he 
said. 

She  threw  her  arms  around  his  neck  and 
kissed  him  as  if  he  had  been  her  own  father. 
Then  she  turned  and  hurried  down  the  gravel 
walk. 

We  listened  until  the  sound  of  her  steps  had 
died  away,  and  then  the  old  doctor  said  in  a 
low  voice: 

"Yes,  she  is  the  happiest  woman  in  the 
world,  I  guess.  She  has  paid  the  price.  There 
is  love  and  great  joy  in  the  heart  of  those  who 
hold  His  hand  through  all  the  night  and  walk 
with  God  until  the  morning." 

And  in  the  long  silence  which  followed,  the 
refrain  came  back  to  me:  "J-e-r-u-s-a-1-e-m, 
J-e-r-u-s-a-lem,  sing  for  the  night  is  o'er,"  as  if 
the  song  and  the  story  were  one. 


THE  GUESTS  OF  THE  HOUSE 


THE  GUESTS  OF  THE  HOUSE 

THEY  used  to  call  her  Winnie  when  I  knew 
her  as  a  girl,  and  she  was  no  more  attrac- 
tive than  her  name.  She  was  a  slender,  long- 
necked,  hollow-chested,  freckle-faced  girl  who 
had  a  queer  little  love  affair,  about  which  I  am 
not  going  to  tell  you,  and  when  the  young 
fellow  just  drifted  away  and  forgot  her,  no 
one  blamed  him  very  much.  But  Winnie  had 
some  wild  ideas  about  tragedy  and  death.  In- 
stead, though,  of  doing  anything  rash,  she  went 
to  the  city  and  got  a  position  at  six  dollars  per 
week  in  a  department  store;  and  now  she  is 
called  Winsome  by  her  friends  and  she  is  known 
from  coast  to  coast  as  one  of  the  remarkable 
women  of  the  country. 

When  I  saw  her  a  few  days  ago  she  was 
dressed  in  a  gown  fit  for  a  princess.  She  greeted 
me  as  cordially  as  if  we  had  been  on  the  old 
school  grounds  at  home,  except  that  she  was 
Winsome  in  temperament  and  manner  and  I 
thought  I  had  never  known  a  more  appropriate 
name.  When  she  was  about  to  enter  her  car 
I  asked  her  if  I  could  get  an  interview. 

Copyright,  1915,  by  Hervey  S.  McCowan 
105 


106        THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

"For  publication?"  she  asked. 

"Yes,"  I  replied. 

"Oh,  my,  no!"  she  said.  "I  never  have  talked 
for  personal  publicity  in  my  life,  but  just  come 
up  and  call  on  me  and  let  us  have  an  old  home- 
folks  visit." 

So  the  next  day  I  called  and  we  roamed  the 
delightful  fields  of  childhood  as  if  we  had  never 
had  an  ambition  in  the  world,  and  then  I  per- 
suaded her  to  tell  me  the  story  of  her  remarkable 
business  and  social  career. 

And  so  she  began,  at  first  slowly  and  reminis- 
cently  as  if  picking  up  stray  threads  and  then 
with  enthusiasm  until  she  unraveled  this  won- 
derful story  of  business  success  and  commercial 
secrets,  which  opens  the  door  for  us  and  lets  us 
look  at  the  maps  and  plans  and  purposes  and 
dreams  and  visions  in  the  very  holy  of  holies 
of  big  business  the  world  over. 

"You  see,"  she  said,  "when  I  left  home  I 
knew  as  little  about  business  as  any  child  in 
short  dresses  and  I  was  very  plain  and  homely 
and  lonely,  and  the  wonder  is  that  any  depart- 
ment manager  would  give  me  a  position  at  all. 
Help  must  have  been  very  scarce,  but  he  took 
pity  upon  me  and  put  me  in  the  wrapping  de- 
partment, which  is  the  most  insignificant  in  the 
establishment  and  requires  the  commonest  kind 
of  help.  I  was  in  that  mental  state  when  noth- 


"7  just  sucked  in  my 
breath  . .  .  and  stared  after 
the  retreating  figure" 


108        THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

ing  but  work  can  give  one  any  interest  in  life. 
But  in  the  mammoth  store  there  were  unusual 
experiences  happening  every  day  and  after  a 
while  I  found  myself  becoming  interested  in  the 
great  commercial  palace  where  some  people  had 
things  to  sell  and  others  wanted  to  buy.  Then 
I  began  to  notice  the  prominent  people  in  the 
many  departments  and  heard  gossip  of  salaries 
paid,  which,  to  me,  sounded  like  a  life-time 
fortune  for  a  month  of  labor;  and  as  I  became 
better  acquainted  I  learned  that  the  big  money 
was  paid  to  those  people  who  had  performed  the 
miracles  in  selling  goods. 

"So  I  began  to  watch  and  listen  to  the  sales 
girls  working  next  to  me  and  one  day,  in  a 
crush  of  trade,  I  was  called  in  to  help,  and  be- 
cause the  busy  season  was  coming  on  I  was 
kept  there. 

"One  day  a  fine-looking  young  woman  came 
to  our  counter  and  purchased  some  trinket. 
She  did  not  wear  a  hat  and  so  I  knew  that  she 
was  with  some  department  of  the  store.  When 
she  had  gone,  the  girl  next  to  me  said:  'See 
that?' 

"  'Uhuh,'  I  replied. 

'  'Buyer  and  manager  of  the  Cloak  Depart- 
ment— $6,000.00  a  year/ 

"I  just  sucked  in  my  breath  and  said  noth- 
ing, but  stared  after  the  retreating  figure.  Six 


THE  GUESTS  OF  THE  HOUSE         109 

thousand  dollars  a  year!  Twenty  times  as 
much  as  I  was  receiving. 

"Well,  the  store  was  full  of  gossip,  especially 
about  those  higher  up.  There  were  fairy  tales 
of  salaries  and  wonder-tales  of  wealth,  inter- 
mingled with  jealousy  and  prejudice  and  hatred. 
But  through  it  all  there  leaked  into  my  sad 
little  brain  this  fact,  that  nearly  every  one  of 
those  in  a  position  of  importance  had  begun  at 
the  very  bottom  and  I  learned  that  the  man- 
ager of  the  Cloak  Department  had  once  held 
the  very  position  which  had  been  given  to  me. 
It  made  me  tremble  to  think  that  the  fine, 
womanly,  graceful  woman  who  had  been  at  our 
counter  had  at  one  time  been  doing  just  what 
I  had  to  do,  and  that  out  of  that  position  she 
had  become  the  possessor  of  the  fabulous  salary 
which  she  was  receiving. 

"That  night  I  went  home  wondering  if 
another  miracle  like  that  could  ever  be  wrought. 
I  ran  into  my  room  and  threw  off  my  street 
clothes  and  turned  to  straighten  my  hair  and 
when  I  saw  myself  in  the  glass  I  broke  into 
tears.  There  stood  the  tiredest,  thinnest,  home- 
liest little  shadow  of  a  girl  that  ever  looked 
into  a  mirror  and  I  felt  sure  that  nothing  could 
put  me  into  the  coveted  Cloak  Department. 

"After  supper  I  went  to  my  room  and  cried 
myself  to  sleep  as  I  lay  across  the  bed  with  my 


110        THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

clothes  on.  But  I  dreamed  that  I  had  learned 
to  sell  goods;  that  I  had  learned  all  there  was  to 
know  about  the  stock  in  our  department,  and 
that  my  knowledge  of  the  articles  made  them 
attractive  to  the  customers  who  came  to  look 
them  over.  I  got  up  the  next  morning  full  of 
my  dream  and  I  said  to  myself:  'Others  have 
learned  how  and  I  can  learn  it,'  and  with  that 
day  I  began  to  see  that  I  must  understand  and 
know  all  there  was  to  know  about  the  goods 
we  had  to  sell. 

"I  didn't  have  a  very  good  day,  but  some- 
how I  had  caught  the  joy  of  selling  and  I  never 
thought  of  my  salary  or  what  I  would  do  with 
it.  I  wanted  to  sell,  and  to  sell  to  every  cus- 
tomer who  came.  While,  as  I  say,  I  didn't  have 
a  very  good  day,  yet  I  learned  at  night  that  my 
sales  were  the  largest  in  my  department,  and  I 
was  happy. 

"The  next  day  my  sales  were  lower  than  the 
head  saleswoman's  and  I  was  as  blue  as  a  plum. 
Then  I  began  to  read  every  little  circular  of  in- 
formation that  came  to  us  with  any  article  and 
I  discovered  that  I  was  gaining  knowledge  and 
that  day  by  day  I  crowded  the  highest  sales  and 
sometimes  held  the  record,  and  my  poor  little 
starved  heart  laughed  within  me.  And  some- 
times when  I  had  made  a  sale  to  some  critical 
customer,  my  joy  would  break  into  an  ecstasy 


THE  GUESTS  OF  THE  HOUSE        111 

which  I  had  never  known  in  my  forlorn  little 
life. 

"It  happened  that  a  salesman  from  the  fac- 
tory stopped  and  told  us  how  the  goods  were 
made  and  then  related  interesting  stories  about 
the  members  of  his  firm  and  why  their  goods 
were  always  of  uniform  grade  and  superior  qual- 
ity. The  stories  were  interesting  and  one  day 
when  trying  to  sell  to  a  customer,  and  feeling  that 
I  was  going  to  fail,  I  told  the  story  to  her  which 
the  salesman  had  told  to  me.  The  sale  was 
closed,  and  I  said  to  myself:  Tt  is  knowledge 
of  the  thing  you  sell,  if  you  have  a  good  article, 
which  will  sell  it.'  And  so  I  became  as  greedy 
as  a  scientist  for  facts  about  our  line.  When  I 
realized  that  we  had  the  quality  and  style  and 
that  I  was  surely  learning  the  secret  of  selling, 
my  heart  grew  light,  and  I  began  to  forget  all 
about  loneliness  and  homeliness  and  tears. 

"So  the  weeks  went  by  and  my  sales  increased 
as  I  came  to  know  the  goods  we  had  to  sell  and 
the  people  we  had  to  sell  to,  and  one  day  I  dis- 
covered that  there  was  a  great  deal  more  to 
learn  about  the  people  than  there  was  about 
the  goods,  because  the  goods  were  about  the 
same  from  day  to  day.  They  never  changed 
much.  But  the  people  who  drifted  past  our 
counter  or  came  and  sorted  over  our  stock  were 
as  varied  as  the  leaves  of  the  forest.  There 


112        THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

were  no  two  alike  and  the  same  people  would 
not  be  in  the  same  mood  two  days  in  succes- 
sion. Their  temper  changed  with  the  weather 
or  their  digestion,  and  we  had  no  way  of  getting 
a  report  on  their  disposition  for  the  day,  but 
had  to  divine  it  by  instinct  as  they  approached 
us,  and  I  learned  in  many  ways  to  read  the 
signs  of  happiness  and  gloom,  of  love  and  hate, 
and  of  generosity  and  greed. 

"That  was  a  great  discovery  for  me  and  I 
saw  myself  responding  to  it  as  I  would  receive 
this  wireless  message  from  my  customers  before 
I  heard  their  voice;  and  my  manner  would 
change  to  suit  their  mood  and  the  sale  would  be 
made  without  fuss  or  friction  and  they  would 
go  away  satisfied.  After  learning  that  funda- 
mental principle  of  salesmanship,  I  found  that 
the  customers  who  had  traded  with  me  once 
came  directly  to  me  upon  their  return  to  our 
counter,  and  my  work  became  easier  and  the 
sales  much  larger,  until  I  aroused  the  jealousy 
of  the  best  saleswoman  we  had  by  equalling  or 
surpassing  her  sales. 

"Well,  one  day  the  head  saleswoman  said  she 
was  going  to  be  married  and  that  Saturday 
would  be  her  last  day  in  the  store.  Someone 
was  going  to  get  her  position  at  twelve  dollars 
per  week.  The  big  question  popped  into  the 
head  of  every  one  of  us  the  minute  we  learned 


THE  GUESTS  OF  THE  HOUSE         113 

she  was  going.  There  was  no  chance  for  me,  I 
felt  sure,  because  I  was  the  last  one  employed, 
and  then  I  was  green  and  homely,  but  I  won- 
dered and  wondered  through  all  of  my  waking 
hours  and  throughout  most  of  my  dreams. 

"Saturday  morning  I  wakened  with  the  big 
question  still  in  my  mind,  and  suddenly  I 
seemed  to  remember  that  my  sales  had  been 
larger  than  those  of  any  girl  in  our  department 
excepting  those  of  the  girl  who  was  leaving, 
and  then  I  did  the  bravest  thing  I  have  ever 
done  in  my  life.  When  the  store  closed  that 
night  I  went  to  the  office  of  the  manager  of 
our  department  and  asked  him  if  he  could  give 
me  the  position. 

"He  looked  at  me  a  long  while  with  a  puzzled 
expression  in  his  eyes  and  then  he  said:  'Why, 
Winnie,  I  don't  see  how  I  can  do  it.  You 
haven't  been  with  us  very  long  and  you  haven't 
had  much  experience,  but  I  have  been  watching 
your  record  and  you  can  sell  goods.' 

'  'Isn't  that  what  you  want?'  I  asked. 

'Yes,  that  is  what  we  want,  but  there  are 
other  things  to  be  considered  in  the  head  of  a 
department.  There  must  be  the  quality  of 
leadership  and  the  ability  to  organize  and  teach 
and  compel  other  clerks  to  sell.  I  haven't  just 
the  girl  I  want  and  I  would  be  tempted  to  try 
you,  but  I  can't.  I  simply  can't.* 


114        THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

"  'And  why  can't  you?'  I  asked. 

"  'Because/  he  said,  'you  are  so  darned 
homely,  and  you  don't  know  how  to  wear 
clothes.' 

"The  blood  all  left  my  heart  and  came  up 
into  my  face  until  it  turned  crimson. 

"He  saw  it  and  felt  ashamed  and  said:  'There, 
there  now,  I  ought  not  to  have  said  it,  but  if 
you  could  keep  that  color  in  your  cheeks  in- 
stead of  freckles  I'd  give  you  the  job.' 

"  'It's  a  bargain.  I'll  get  a  five-gallon  can  of 
scarlet  paint  and  dip  my  face  in  it  every  morn- 
ing,' I  flashed  back  at  him  angrily. 

"  'You  shall  have  a  trial  at  the  position  for 
a  week  for  that  retort,'  he  said.  'Now  see  what 
you  can  do  with  it.' 

"I  walked  out  of  his  office  the  happiest, 
broken-hearted  girl  that  ever  drowned  her  joy 
in  tears.  I  sobbed  over  the  insulting  remarks 
he  had  made,  but  there  was  a  sweet  tremor 
which  stirred  deeply  within  me  over  my  little 
triumph.  I  was  the  head  saleswoman  of  our 
department,  although  it  was  regarded  as  the 
least  important  department  in  the  store. 

"All  day  Sunday  I  spent  trying  to  find  some 
way  to  swell  my  sales,  for  Monday  is  the  day 
of  all  days  in  the  city,  as  Saturday  is  in  the 
country. 

"About  five  days  of  the  week  we  had  only 


THE  GUESTS  OF  THE  HOUSE        115 

three  clerks  in  our  department,  but  on  Monday 
we  had  six  and  my  first  day's  experience  was  to 
be  with  the  larger  force. 

"I  didn't  know  one  thing  about  teaching 
others  how  to  sell.  I  knew  only  how  I  had 
learned  by  listening.  So  when  the  girls  came, 
I  said:  'I  will  sell  to  each  customer  who  comes 
until  the  crowd  begins  to  gather  and  I  want 
each  one  of  you  to  be  arranging  goods  busily 
nearby,  so  that  you  can  hear  all  that  I  shall 
say  to  our  customers  without  appearing  to  listen. 
This  is  a  bright  day  and  we  may  have  great 
crowds.  Now  remember  this,  that  we  are  to 
make  this  the  biggest  Monday  this  department 
has  known.  I  want  the  new  girls  to  see  if  they 
can  sell  as  many  goods  as  the  older  clerks.'  The 
older  girls  were  bitter  because  I  had  been  pro- 
moted over  them,  but  this  challenge  compelled 
them  to  keep  up  their  record. 

"We  had  a  good  day.  We  didn't  break  the 
record,  but  the  next  morning  the  manager  came 
down  the  aisle  and  complimented  us  and  gave 
me  an  approving  smile.  *A  good  start,'  he  said. 
'But  you  know  the  story  of  the  new  broom.' 

"  'Yes,'  I  said,  *I  know  the  story,  but  let  us 
hope  that  this  broom  may  sweep  better  as  it 
grows  older.' 

"And  that  is  the  way  I  found  myself  among 
the  managers  of  the  departments  and  from  that 


116         THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

time  on  I  felt  responsibility  for  myself  and  for 
others.  As  I  look  back  now  over  all  the  im- 
provements which  have  been  made  during  the 
years  of  my  experience  I  wonder  that  the  old 
methods  did  not  bankrupt  every  store  in  the 
country. 

"One  day  we  were  very  busy.  All  of  my 
clerks  had  customers  and  I  was  standing  at 
the  head  of  the  counter,  watching  to  see  that 
the  customers  were  properly  served  and  this  is 
what  I  saw:  One  of  the  clerks  was  lounging  on 
the  counter,  while  she  showed  the  goods. 
Another  was  interlarding  her  remarks  with 
slang,  and  another  gave  some  impudent  retort 
to  a  critical  customer,  and  her  hair  was  frowsy. 
I  suppose  we  had  been  guilty  of  those  things  all 
the  time,  but  I  had  never  seen  them. 

"I  began  to  talk  to  the  girls  about  those  little 
objectionable  personal  habits.  At  first  they  re- 
sented my  interference  and  said  that  all  the 
girls  in  the  store  practiced  them.  'That  is  true,' 
I  said,  'but  we  are  in  the  least  desirable  depart- 
ment of  this  store.  We  are  the  poorest  paid;  we 
have  the  least  consideration  and  if  hard  times 
should  come  on  we  would  be  the  very  first  clerks 
who  would  be  dropped.  I  can't  afford  to  lose 
my  position,  and  I  know  that  you  can't,  and  so 
we  shall  have  to  make  our  department  im- 
portant by  making  money  for  the  house,  so 


THE  GUESTS  OF  THE  HOUSE        117 

that  if  there  is  any  change  we  shall  be  taken 
care  of.' 

"I  began  the  custom  of  requiring  the  sales- 
girls to  read  thoroughly  every  daily  advertise- 
ment and  printed  circular  on  the  goods  we  had 
to  sell,  and  would  sometimes  question  them  in  a 
kind  of  examination.  It  was 'not  long  until  they 
caught  the  joy  of  selling,  too,  and  we  did  draw 
an  enormous  patronage  for  our  pains. 

"One  day  a  pathetic  thing  happened.  A  little 
dried-up,  tired,  weary  woman  came  to  our 
counter.  Her  clothes  were  shabby  and  her  hat 
was  out  of  style.  The  salesgirl  waiting  on  her 
showed  her  contempt  and  indifference.  The  lit- 
tle woman  was  timid  and  shy.  I  had  watched 
the  scene  and  as  she  turned  away  in  a  confused 
way,  I  stepped  out  into  the  aisle  and  asked  if 
she  had  found  what  she  wished.  She  said  that 
the  things  were  not  just  what  she  wanted  and 
that  she  would  look  farther. 

"  'I  am  sure  we  have  what  you  want,'  I  said, 
and  I  brought  her  back  and  asked  the  clerk  to 
display  the  articles  again  and  we  made  the  sale. 

"All  day  my  temper  was  on  a  hair-trigger 
and  before  the  girls  left  that  night  I  said  to 
them:  'Here  is  something  for  you  to  sleep  over: 
Gowns  in  style  and  hats  in  season  are  no  cri- 
terion of  the  lady  who  wears  them.  From  now 
on  ladies  in  calico  and  ladies  in  laces  receive 


118        THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

the  same  consideration  at  this  counter  on  pain 
of  losing  your  position.' 

"These  things  brought  their  reward,  for  one 
evening  the  manager  asked  us  to  wait  a  few 
minutes  and  when  he  came  he  said:  'You  girls 
have  been  doing  some  good  work  here  and  we 
are  going  to  recognize  it.'  He  raised  our  sal- 
aries all  around. 

"Close  to  us  were  the  velvet  goods.  I  had 
never  had  fine  clothes  and  I  did  love  them.  I 
was  frantic  to  get  into  that  department  just  to 
handle  the  soft,  rich  cloth.  I  talked  to  the 
other  girls  and  got  all  the  facts  about  the  goods, 
and  I  learned  that  the  department  was  over- 
stocked and  a  great  advertising  campaign  had 
been  put  on  to  reduce  it.  There  was  a  tre- 
mendous throng  which  crowded  the  store  early 
in  the  morning  and  before  noon  it  became  a 
crush.  The  salesgirls  were  overwhelmed  and  I 
asked  the  manager  if  I  could  help. 

'  'Do  you  know  anything  about  velvet 
goods?'  he  asked. 

"  'A  little,'  I  replied. 

'  'Come  over  and  do  what  you  can/  he  said. 
'Anyway,  you  can  help  keep  the  stock.' 

"That  is  an  event  to  be  remembered  as  a  girl 
remembers  her  first  party.  And  you  won't  be- 
lieve this  when  I  tell  you — but  when  we  were 
checked  up  I  stood  fourth  in  the  amount  of 


THE  GUESTS  OF  THE  HOUSE        119 

sales,  and  the  others  had  the  start  of  me  one 
hour  in  the  morning. 

"Oh,  Robert,  Robert,"  she  said  to  me,  with 
the  mist  of  tears  swimming  in  her  eyes,  "you 
will  never  know  the  joy  which  made  me  burst 
into  tears  when  I  heard  of  it,  because  you  have 
never  been  a  poor,  neglected,  lonely,  homely, 
freckled-faced  little  stranger,  without  a  friend 
in  a  great  city,  and  when  the  manager  put  me 
into  the  velvet  goods  department  the  next  day, 
I  could  have  hugged  him  for  the  bald-headed, 
ugly  old  dear  that  he  was,  only  he  never  knew 
the  danger  he  was  in.  And  from  that  time  I 
was  always  watching  and  studying  the  depart- 
ment I  hoped  to  be  promoted  to,  and  within  the 
year  I  was  head  saleswoman  of  the  velvets. 

"Meanwhile  I  had  been  working  on  myself, 
too.  With  the  first  increase  in  salary  I  went 
to  a  well-known  physical  director  and  asked 
her  what  I  could  do  to  improve  my  figure. 

"She  said:  'You  can  take  physical  exercise, 
which  will  put  your  shoulders  back  where  they 
ought  to  be  and  make  your  carriage  elastic  and 
graceful,  and  you  can  train  your  hair,  and  clear 
your  complexion  and  get  rid  of  many  of  your 
freckles.' 

"This  is  not  a  'beauty  talk,'  "  continue/d  Win- 
some, "and  I  am  not  going  to  tell  you  all  the 
things  I  did,  but  I  did  them  as  carefully  and 


120        THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

persistently  as  I  ever  tried  to  sell  a  bill  of  goods 
and  then  the  dressmaker  did  the  rest  and  the 
result  has  brought  some  satisfaction."  She 
smiled,  blushing,  as  she  glanced  at  me. 

"In  my  new  position  I  worked  out  the  old 
methods  and  improved  upon  them  with  ex- 
perience. The  system  brought  large  sales  and 
no  doubt  drew  the  attention  of  my  superiors, 
so  that  my  salary  was  raised  many  times  and  I 
was  promoted  from  one  department  and  posi- 
tion to  another,  until  I  came  to  have  a  larger 
view  of  the  great  business  of  which  I  had  be- 
come a  part.  But  I  had  never  seen  the  enter- 
prise in  its  greatness  until  one  Thanksgiving 
day  when  the  store  was  closed  and  everybody 
was  gone.  I  had  come  back  late  in  the  after- 
noon to  get  some  business  off  my  desk  and  when 
it  was  finished  I  sat  there  and  gazed  around  the 
silent  room,  usually  so  noisy  with  busy  cus- 
tomers. My  idleness  and  the  emptiness  perhaps 
emphasized  the  size  of  the  room  and  the  build- 
ing and  I  said :  'What  a  wonderful  institution  it 
is!'  and  I  began  to  see  for  the  first  time  the 
enormous  investment  involved  and  the  heavy 
responsibility  the  managers  carried.  There  were 
the  great  building  and  its  costly  fixtures  and 
offices  and  the  goods  piled  into  story  after  story, 
and  then  a  picture  of  the  activities  necessary  to 
feed  the  big  store  came  to  me. 


"There  was  a  shelf  of  silk  in  front  of  me  and 
I  seemed  to  trace  the  pieces  of  fabric  back, 
along  the  railway  line  through  the  looms  and 
factories  away  back  across  the  seas  to  the 
worms  as  they  lay  spinning  their  yarn  in  the 
shade  of  a  leaf,  far  away. 

"I  saw  the  cotton  on  the  shelf  across  the 
room,  and  my  fancy  followed  it  in  transit 
through  the  factories  in  New  England  and  back 
along  the  way  it  had  come,  through  the  com- 
press and  gin  and  then  hanging  in  a  million 
bolls  in  the  white  fields  of  the  South,  where 
negroes  sang  sweet  melodies. 

"I  remembered,  too,  a  consignment  of  furs 
which  had  been  delivered  the  day  before  and 
my  fancy  took  me  back  along  the  way  to  the 
snow-covered  hills  and  forests  where  the  trapper 
lies  in  wait  for  his  prey,  and  where  these  same 
furs  had  been  running  around  on  four  legs  try- 
ing to  dodge  the  ingenuity  of  men. 

"Hour  after  hour  I  sat  there  tracing  one  line 
of  goods  after  another  back  to  their  origin  as 
they  came  from  their  native  state,  in  all  the 
secret  places  of  nature  and  I  said:  'All  the  ex- 
pense of  blunders  and  mistakes  and  accidents 
must  be  covered  before  we  get  the  goods,  and 
then  after  we  have  received  them  there  are  the 
fire-risk  and  soil-risk  and  out-of-season-risk/ 
and  then  I  seemed  to  see  the  thousand  careless 


122        THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

and  thoughtless  things  which  happen  every  day 
in  every  store  in  the  land,  which  cause  loss  and 
waste  to  the  owners.  And  for  the  first  time  in 
my  business  experience  I  saw  how  necessary  it 
was  to  have  a  careful,  thoughtful  salesf orce,  who 
would  not  waste  goods  or  time  and  who  would 
prize  every  customer.  And  from  that  time  I 
began  to  organize  what  I  called  the  network 
system  to  prevent  leakage  and  loss.  In  that  day 
I  saw  the  wholesale  and  retail  systems  of  the 
world,  with  each  store  acting  as  a  magnet, 
drawing  what  it  needed  from  every  corner  of 
the  earth — and  all  this  amazing  investment  and 
energy  invested  for  the  single  purpose:  To  sell, 
sell,  sell!  feeding  the  desires  of  the  hungry 
millions  who  come  to  buy.  I  came  to  see  that 
the  selling  of  goods  is  the  most  important  fac- 
tor of  the  whole  business  world,  and  that  sales- 
manship is  a  science,  and  that  any  one  who 
learns  it  and  keeps  the  pace  will  never  come  to 
want.  From  that  day  to  this  the  passion  for 
selling,  selling,  selling,  has  sung  like  a  song  in 
my  heart. 

"Then  something  happened  which  made  me 
bless  the  day  I  had  found  myself  in  business. 
My  father  had  died  and  for  several  years  I  had 
been  sending  money  home  to  keep  my  mother 
and  to  educate  my  younger  sister.  I  had  never 
told  anyone  about  my  large  success  or  salary. 


THE  GUESTS  OF  THE  HOUSE        123 

But  on  this  afternoon  when  I  returned  home  I 
found  a  letter  from  my  sister,  saying  that  my 
mother  was  sick;  that  they  were  alarmed,  and 
that  mother  had  been  unwilling  to  let  me  know, 
lest  I  should  worry  about  her. 

"Isn't  that  just  like  the  mothers  of  the 
world,  though,  and  don't  they  pour  out  their 
lives  for  their  children  from  the  day  they  are 
born?  God  bless  them! 

"I  took  the  first  train  for  home  and  con- 
sulted our  physician  before  I  went  to  the  house. 
He  said:  'Your  mother  must  have  an  operation 
and  the  sooner  it  is  performed  the  better  and 
safer  it  will  be.  She  will  require  a  specialist 
and  it  will  be  expensive.' 

"  'How  much?'  I  asked. 

"  'Not  less  than  $300.00  and  maybe  more.' 

"  'All  right,  doctor,'  I  told  him.  'Get  every- 
thing ready  at  once.'  Then  I  ran  out  home, 
where  I  had  not  been  for  several  years,  and  the 
sight  of  my  poor  little  mother,  who  had  allowed 
herself  to  waste  away  rather  than  worry  her 
prosperous  daughter  nearly  broke  my  heart.  I 
just  gathered  her  up  in  my  arms  and  rocked  her 
and  kissed  her  and  crooned  over  her  as  if  she 
had  been  my  own  child.  She  looked  up  at  me 
from  her  tear-filled  eyes,  and  then  I  broke 
down,  in  spite  of  my  resolution  not  to,  and  we 
had  a  cry-feast  together,  with  her  cuddled  in 


124        THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

my  arms,  which,  in  spite  of  the  warning  of  the 
doctor,  did  us  both  good. 

"The  specialist  came  and  did  his  work  and 
took  nearly  five  hundred  dollars  of  my  money 
away  with  him.  But  I  never  gave  any  money 
in  my  life  with  such  joy  in  my  heart,  for  he 
saved  my  mother's  life  and  our  happiness,  and 
I  rejoiced  over  the  wise  plan  I  had  adopted 
upon  the  advice  of  an  old  salesman  in  the  store. 
He  had  said  to  me  one  day  when  he  noticed 
some  little  extravagance  from  my  twelve  dol- 
lars per  week:  'Don't  forget  to  save  a  little 
every  day,  daughter,  for  there  will  be  a  time 
when  you  will  need  it  all.' 

"Every  girl  and  boy  should  learn  it  while 
young,  for  the  time  will  come  when  life's  hap- 
piness may  hang  in  the  balance  and  the  little 
fund  may  tip  the  scale  for  joy  and  thanks- 
giving. 

"I  went  back  to  my  work  when  mother  had 
recovered  sufficiently.  The  evening  of  my  re- 
turn I  was  asked  to  dinner  at  a  friend's  house. 
The  gracious  courtesy  of  this  friend  of  mine 
had  always  fascinated  me.  On  this  night  she 
was  more  attractive  than  ever  before,  and  I 
said  to  myself:  'What  a  saleswoman  she  would 
make.  Customers  would  love  her  to  distrac- 
tion and  work  her  to  death/  And  right  there 
I  forgot  where  I  was  and  what  I  was  there  for. 


THE  GUESTS  OF  THE  HOUSE        125 

The  great  idea  had  possessed  me,  that  a  sales- 
woman ought  to  be  as  charming  as  a  hostess. 

"I  never  knew  when  I  went  home  or  how  I 
got  there,  but  the  next  day  I  began  to  put  my 
plan  into  operation.  I  said:  'I  will  train  a  de- 
partment of  saleswomen  who  will  be  as  gracious 
and  courteous  and  exquisite  in  manners  as  the 
most  charming  hostess  in  the  city.'  I  went  to  a 
lady  whose  business  it  was  to  take  the  most 
unsophisticated  people  and  work  them  over  and 
train  them  to  positions  of  wealth  and  refine- 
ment, and  then  I  took  my  own  selling  force  and 
trained  them  until  they  had  the  grace  and  re- 
finement of  the  best-bred  people.  It  was  all 
done  for  the  single  purpose  of  making  our 
customers  enjoy  the  service  we  rendered  them. 

"One  never  can  tell  what  little  things  may 
grow  into  or  what  influence  they  may  have 
upon  one's  whole  life. 

"One  morning  the  general  manager  asked  me 
to  come  to  his  office.  As  I  entered  I  saw  that 
there  were  other  prominent  officers  of  the  Com- 
pany there  also.  When  I  was  seated,  the 
manager  drew  from  his  desk  a  long  sheet  of 
paper  and  then  said:  'Miss  Winsome,  we  want 
some  information  about  your  department.  What 
have  you  done  to  increase  your  sales  to  such 
abnormal  proportions?  At  first  we  thought  they 
were  only  spasmodic,  but  they  have  continued 


126        THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

to  exceed  anything  in  this  store  and  we  think  in 
any  store.' 

"  'Have  they  been  entirely  satisfactory?'  I 
asked. 

"  'Highly  satisfactory/  he  answered. 

"  'Then,'  I  said,  'it  is  a  little  secret  of  mine 
and  I  would  rather  keep  it.' 

"He  frowned  at  first,  then  smiled  and  asked: 
'Is  it  something  which  could  be  fitted  to  every 
department?' 

"  'I  think  so,'  I  said. 

"  'Here  is  a  compact,  then,'  he  said.  'Tell 
us  what  it  is,  and  if  you  can  apply  it  in  the 
Cloak  Department  with  the  success  you  have 
in  your  department,  we  will  make  you  manager 
of  that  department  when  Miss  Marlow  leaves  us 
in  the  spring.  And  you  shall  begin  at  her  salary.' 
;  'That  is  fair  enough,'  I  said,  'and  I  will 
show  you  how  simple  it  has  been.  I  have 
convinced  my  selling  force  that  all  advertising 
of  the  store  is  simply  an  invitation,  and  that  all 
the  customers  who  accept  the  invitation  of  a 
store  are  the  guests  of  the  store,  and  that  every 
woman  clerk  is  a  hostess,  and  that  she  ought  to 
have  all  the  sweetness  and  charm  and  winsome 
manner  of  a  hostess  receiving  guests.  We  have 
been  in  training  not  only  to  know  goods  and 
customers,  but  to  know  the  best  social  manners 
and  usage. 


THE  GUESTS  OF  THE  HOUSE        127 

'  'I  became  convinced  that  no  unrefined  peo- 
ple would  take  offense  at  the  kindest  and  most 
thoughtful  courtesy  and  that  many  refined  peo- 
ple would  appreciate  it,  and  we  have  done  this 
with  the  distinct  understanding  that  there 
should  be  no  discrimination  between  the  richest 
and  the  poorest  customers  who  come  to  our 
counters.  You  may  have  noticed  that  in  OUT 
department: 

"  'No  one  wears  a  frowsy  garment,  even  if  of 
the  cheapest  material. 

"  'No  one  has  unkempt  hair. 

*"No  one  lounges  ungracefully  about  the 
counters. 

"  'No  one  gives  a  sharp  retort. 

"  'No  one  uses  slang. 

"  'No  one  chews  gum  in  the  face  of  a  customer. 

"  'We  have  attempted  to  be  the  most  gracious 
hostesses  to  the  Guests  of  The  House.' 

"They  sat  and  looked  at  me  a  long  while, 
those  hard-headed  directors  whose  business  it 
was  to  direct  the  destinies  of  the  great  store. 

"After  a  while  one  of  them  grunted  and  said: 
'Simple  enough,  but  no  one  but  a  woman  would 
have  found  it.' 

"They  kept  their  agreement  and  more.  They 
didn't  make  me  manager  and  buyer  of  the 
Cloak  Department,  but  they  made  me  assistant 
sales  manager  of  the  Company. 


128         THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

"And  that  has  been  our  custom,  to  make  our 
customers  the  Guests  of  the  House.  We  have 
extended  our  courtesies  farther  and  farther  and 
the  business  has  grown  beyond  our  wildest 
dreams,  and  yet  these  courtesies  have  been 
abused  sometimes  in  ways  you  would  never  be- 
lieve. One  of  the  customs  we  adopted  was  to 
send  goods  to  the  house  and  even  out  of  town  to 
be  inspected.  It  was  understood,  of  course,  that 
a  reasonable  length  of  time  should  be  given  for 
the  examination  and  decision.  But  some  of 
these  guests,  whose  honor  we  have  trusted  for 
fair  treatment  in  return  for  the  courtesy  shown, 
have  kept  the  goods  many  days  and  have  some- 
times worn  them  and  have  returned  them  to  us 
soiled,  with  the  message  that  they  were  not 
quite  what  they  wanted.  This  abuse  has  de- 
veloped until  goods  have  been  kept  for  weeks 
and  then  returned  to  us  soiled  and  unsalable. 
Others  have  taken  the  goods  out  only  to  pat- 
tern the  style  and  then  have  returned  them; 
and  a  few  days  later  they  would  appear  in  the 
store  dressed  in  a  duplicate  of  the  gown  or  hat 
they  had  borrowed,  and  still  others  have  come 
to  the  store  or  phoned  in  for  us  to  deliver  a 
spool  of  thread  or  a  ribbon  worth  perhaps  not 
more  than  five  cents  and  the  delivery  of  it 
would  cost  us  from  five  to  fifteen  cents. 

"When  we  have  figured  these  extravagant 


THE  GUESTS  OF  THE  HOUSE        129 

favors  and  have  found  what  an  addition  they 
have  made  in  our  expense  account,  we  have 
drawn  long  faces  and  we  have  been  d  scussing 
the  necessity  of  restricting  our  hospitality,  be- 
cause this  abuse  by  a  small  proportion  of  our 
customers  and  guests  works  an  njustice  to  us 
and  to  the  very  great  number  who  appreciate 
every  courtesy  we  have  been  able  to  show  them. 
So  I  feel  sure  that  there  will  be  a  custom  adopted 
of  determining  the  minimum  sale  for  which  free 
delivery  will  be  granted,  and  also  that  there  is 
certain  to  be,  sooner  or  later,  a  restriction  to 
a  few  days  for  the  examination  and  selection  of 
any  article  sent  out  to  the  homes. 

"But  when  we  think  of  the  great  multitude 
whom  we  have  served,  and  who  in  turn  have 
served  us,  it  fills  us  with  a  glow  of  kindness. 
They  have  been  lovely  and  have  made  the  great 
store  the  success  it  has  become,  and  we  in  turn 
have  given  them  a  greater  variety  for  their  se- 
lection and  a  greater  value  for  their  money.  By 
housing  many  departments  in  one  building  and 
under  one  management,  we  reduce  expenses  and 
buy  cheaper,  and  any  customer  who  trades  with 
us  regularly  will  find  that  his  family  will  live 
better  with  no  additional  cost.  When  a  store 
gets  the  spirit  we  have  developed,  it  becomes  a 
joyous  place  to  live  and  work,  and  the  purpose 
of  living  is  changed  until  giving  the  best  service 


130         THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

and  helping  your  guests  to  better  things  be- 
comes one's  loftiest  ambition,  and  if  it  isn't 
religion  it  is  very  much  like  it.  It  develops  the 
character  of  those  who  sell  and  it  gives  help  and 
happiness  to  all  the  Guests  of  the  House,  who 
buy. 

"To  learn  the  most  fastidious  tastes  of  our 
patrons;  to  choose  the  goods  they  will  want 
for  their  homes;  to  gather  these  things  from  all 
the  ends  of  the  earth;  to  offer  the  best  quality 
for  the  lowest  price;  to  render  a  courtesy  and 
service  which  excel  all  competition,  and  to 
prosper  ourselves  because  we  make  our  cus- 
tomers prosper: 

"This  is  almost  the  genius  of  Joy. 

"This  is  the  blessed  bliss  of  Big  Business." 

She  stopped  a  minute  and  looked  at  me; 
then  she  said:  "Well,  Robert,  that  is  my  story. 
It's  simple,  isn't  it?" 

"Yes,  it's  simple,"  I  said,  "with  all  the  sim- 
plicity of  genius,  and  something  that  every 
store  and  clerk  and  customer  ought  to  hear, 
and  I  want  to  print  it  without  your  name." 

It  took  me  a  long  while,  but  I  got  her  consent 
at  last.  I  was  about  to  go  out  when  we  heard 
the  front  door  open. 

"There  comes  the  wild  animal  now  who  keeps 
me  in  subjection,"  she  laughed,  as  she  went  out 
to  meet  her  husband. 


THE  STRANGER'S  STORY 


THE  STRANGER'S  STORY 

THE  campaign  was  on.  The  weather  was 
hot  and  men  were  hotter.  The  ther- 
mometer had  stood  at  105°  in  the  shade  all 
day.  The  sky  was  blue.  A  few  filmy  clouds 
floated  lazily  against  the  azure  above.  There 
was  no  hope  or  sign  of  rain.  But  the  crops 
looked  fine.  The  cotton  wore  a  black  green, 
grassy  garment,  and  the  feed  crop  was  assured. 
Texas  was  in  its  glory — a  promising  cotton 
crop,  plenty  of  feed,  and  hot  weather  by  day, 
with  nights  as  cool  and  delicious  as  winds  from 
the  sea. 

This  is  the  season  when  the  moral  and  spirit- 
ual life  of  Texas  comes  to  the  boiling  point. 
There  is  no  religious  fever  in  this  great  state 
when  the  wind  blows  cold  or  when  the  air  is 
damp  or  wet.  It  is  in  the  summer  time  that 
the  people  hold  their  great  revivals  of  religion 
in  tents  or  under  the  revival  sheds,  built  with  a 
roof  but  with  open  sides,  in  the  church  grounds, 
and  in  political  years  it  is  during  this  time  that 
political  enthusiasm  grows  with  a  frenzy. 

Copyright,  1916,  by  the  International  Committee  of  Young  Men'o 
Christian  Associations 

133 


134         THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

The  conditions  were  perfect.  The  Drys  and 
the  Wets  were  at  their  best.  The  issues  were 
plain,  but  the  results  were  uncertain,  and  the 
arguments  had  finally  centered  in  a  life  and 
death  struggle  around  that  "last  ditch"  senti- 
ment, of  "personal  liberty  to  eat  and  drink  as  I 
please." 

I  sat  on  the  broad  veranda  of  a  south  Texas 
hotel  looking  out  on  the  bay.  It  was  a  Satur- 
day afternoon,  and  men  began  to  gather  to 
spend  Sunday — and  everybody  talked  politics. 
You  were  a  Wet  or  a  Dry.  You  drank  whiskey 
or  you  drank  water,  and  you  didn't  dilute 
either. 

Among  the  guests  were  eight  young  traveling 
men.  They  were  a  good  illustration  of  the  sen- 
timent of  the  state.  Four  were  Wets  and  four 
were  Drys.  They  were  uncompromising  and 
bitter.  They  disposed  of  their  grips,  registered, 
then  came  out  and  took  chairs  to  catch  the 
delicious  wind  from  the  water,  but  still  dis- 
cussing the  absorbing  theme.  There  was  one, 
stronger  than  the  others.  He  was  a  Wet.  He 
had  better  use  of  his  head  and  his  arguments 
and  illustrations  were  strong.  He  was  fluent 
and  clever  and  vicious  and  sometimes  profane. 
The  arguments  were  lurid  at  times.  Many 
people  turned  to  listen  and  some  came  close 
and  occasionally  took  part  in  the  conversation. 


THE  STRANGER'S  STORY  135 

It  was  much  easier  to  get  in  than  it  was  to 
get  out,  which  is  true  of  many  things. 

There  was  one,  though,  who  watched  and 
listened  intently.  He  said  nothing,  but  some- 
times smiled.  He  was  forty  or  forty-five,  per- 
haps. He  seemed  to  be  a  stranger.  No  one 
spoke  to  him.  But  I  noticed  that  the  aggressive 
Wet  often  directed  his  conversation  his  way,  as  if 
to  challenge  him.  But  the  stranger  did  not  bite. 

At  six-thirty  the  supper  bell  rang  and  we 
went  into  the  dining-room.  It  happened  that 
the  eight  young  men  and  the  stranger  and 
myself  were  at  a  long  table  together.  The  ar- 
gument continued  until  we  were  served,  when 
it  was  interrupted,  but  it  started  up  again  as 
soon  as  we  began  to  have  our  hunger  satisfied; 
and  then  we  filed  out  to  the  veranda  and  drank 
that  delicious  evening  breeze,  as  sweet  as  the 
odor  of  apple  blossoms. 

Did  you  ever  taste  the  cool  night  air  that 
comes  over  the  southland  just  as  the  sun  goes 
down? 

And  so  the  stage  was  set  for  politics,  and  as 
the  evening  grew  cooler,  the  argument  grew 
hotter,  until  about  forty  men  had  become  in- 
volved in  some  degree,  but  the  leader  still  was 
the  fluent  and  aggressive  Wet.  He  got  up  and 
walked  back  and  forth,  his  hands  slipped  tightly 
into  his  hip  pockets,  and  finally  repeated  this 


136        THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

challenge:  "I'd  like  to  have  someone,  anyone, 
give  me  just  one  sane  reason  why  he  should 
have  the  right  to  order  and  stipulate  what  I 
shall  eat  or  drink,  or  why  I  should  have  the 
right  to  do  the  same  for  him." 

He  stopped  before  the  Stranger,  and  taking 
his  right  hand  from  his  pocket  and  pointing  a 
finger  close  to  the  Stranger's  face,  he  continued: 
"Old  man,  what  have  you  got  to  say  about  it? 
You  have  listened  to  all  of  the  arguments  and 
haven't  said  a  word.  There  isn't  any  middle 
ground.  You  are  a  Wet  or  a  Dry.  Which  are 
you,  and  why?" 

The  Stranger  smiled  at  the  young  fellow  and 
then  replied:  "Yes,  I  have  my  own  opinion — 
but  I  never  allow  myself  to  become  involved  in 
a  controversy.  I  am  going  to  make  a  proposi- 
tion though.  If  you  will  agree  not  to  try  to 
drag  me  into  an  argument  when  I  am  through, 
I  will  tell  you  a  story.  But  I  will  argue  neither 
for  nor  against  it  when  it  is  finished." 

The  young  man  agreed.  The  Stranger  looked 
at  the  circle  of  men  around  him.  They  ap- 
proved also. 

"Well,"  the  Stranger  continued,  "I  am  a  Dry 
and  I  will  tell  you  why.  You  have  asked  for 
one  reason  why  anyone  should  be  given  the 
privilege  to  order  my  food  or  drink.  I  have  a 
reason  which  satisfies  me. 


THE  STRANGER'S  STORY  137 

"My  father  died  when  I  was  five  years  old. 
My  mother  was  very  poor.  She  took  work  of 
many  kinds  from  the  neighbors  to  support  us, 
for  I  had  brothers  and  sisters  and  only  two  old 
enough  to  help.  In  the  north  we  can't  live  as 
you  can  live  here,  where  something  is  growing 
nearly  all  of  the  year,  and  you  have  all  summer 
and  no  winter.  We  have  to  work  continually 
to  hold  the  winters  at  bay.  The  life  of  poor 
people  in  the  north  is  a  tragedy  which  you  can 
never  understand  down  here. 

"My  father  died  in  the  spring.  We  got  along 
pretty  well  with  our  garden  during  the  summer, 
but  when  fall  came  it  was  a  problem  which  only 
a  mother  could  solve  or  would  try  to  solve.  But 
we  had  raised  about  sixty  bushels  of  potatoes, 
and  Mother  had  about  a  hundred  bushels  of 
coal  in  the  coal-house,  and  we  all  crowded  into 
the  kitchen  at  night  and  kept  only  the  cook 
stove  fire  going,  though  we  were  a  large  family. 

"Well,  one  night  in  November  when  it  had 
turned  cold,  and  the  wind  was  howling  around 
our  little  house,  and  we  had  to  keep  the  old 
stove  red  to  warm  our  room,  which  was  on  the 
west  side  of  the  house,  we  heard  a  step  on  the 
porch.  Then  someone  knocked  and  we  little 
fellows  all  crowded  behind  Mother,  as  she 
opened  the  door.  There  stood  a  stranger  in 
United  States  soldier  uniform — the  old  blue 


pattern.  He  smiled  and  held  out  his  hand,  but 
mother  didn't  take  it.  He  laughed,  then  said, 

"  'Don't  you  know  me?  Why,  Flora,  it's 
Dan.' 

"Then  my  mother  recognized  him.  She 
threw  her  arms  around  him  and  kissed  him. 
It  was  her  youngest  brother.  He  had  been  a 
soldier  during  the  Civil  War.  After  the  war 
was  over  he  had  enlisted  again  and  had  been  in 
the  west  fighting  Indians.  He  seemed  to  bear 
a  charmed  life.  He  never  had  a  wound.  He 
was  a  happy  scamp  and  lovable — everybody 
liked  Uncle  Dan.  He  had  been  nearly  all  over 
the  world.  He  had  good  stories  for  every  occa- 
sion. We  had  heard  of  him  from  old  soldiers. 
He  was  a  great  fighter  and  used  to  laugh  while 
he  fought,  they  said.  That  is  the  kind  that 
never  knows  when  it  is  whipped. 

"It  was  late  that  night  when  we  got  to  bed. 
Uncle  Dan,  the  soldier!  Why,  he  was  a  hero 
and  a  knight  to  us  who  had  never  been  outside 
of  the  town  where  we  lived. 

"Well,  the  next  day  he  stayed  around  the 
house  all  day,  and  along  in  the  afternoon  he 
said  to  my  mother,  'Flora,  do  you  think  you 
can  make  room  for  me  to  stay  with  you?' 

"Mother  didn't  say  anything  for  a  good 
while,  and  then  she  said,  *I  don't  know,  Dan. 
Our  family  is  large  and  our  house  is  small.' 


THE  STRANGER'S  STORY  139 

'  'Don't  you  want  me?'  he  asked  in  a  hurt 
voice. 

'  'I  don't  know,  Dan.  That  would  depend 
upon  a  good  many  things.' 

"He  sat  quiet,  and  didn't  say  anything,  just 
looking  at  the  floor. 

"  'You  see,  Dan,'  my  mother  continued,  *y°u 
haven't  lived  as  you  should  have  lived.  You 
used  to  drink  and  swear  and  gamble,  and  maybe 
you  have  done  other  things.  I  have  a  large 
family.  My  boys  have  no  father  to  set  an  ex- 
ample for  them  now.  It  is  going  to  be  a  great 
problem  to  raise  them  all  to  be  good  men.  I 
don't  quite  know  how  I  could  face  this  task 
alone,  if  I  did  not  have  the  Bible  and  could 
not  go  to  God  every  day  to  get  the  help  I  need. 
You  have  that  happy,  amiable  nature  which 
would  make  the  boys  love  you.  They  are  all 
wild  about  you  now,  and  if  your  influence  is  not 
good,  you  would  destroy  all  that  I  am  trying  to 
do.  I  have  to  think  of  my  children  first.' 

"He  told  her  that  he  had  reformed,  that 
he  had  returned  home  to  take  up  a  sober  life 
and  try  to  make  some  money  before  he  was 
old. 

"My  mother  was  not  easily  swayed.  I  never 
knew  a  steadier  head  than  hers,  and  she  had 
more  courage  than  any  man  when  her  children 
were  concerned.  She  didn't  allow  him  to  per- 


140        THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

suade  her.  She  only  said,  'You  stay  until  you 
can  look  around  and  I  will  think  it  over/ 

"He  did  seem  to  be  in  earnest  and  every  day 
they  talked  about  his  coming  to  make  his  home 
with  us,  and  finally  Mother  said,  *AJ1  right, 
Dan.  If  you  are  in  earnest  you  may  come  and 
stay.  We  are  crowded  and  it  will  be  incon- 
venient for  you  and  for  us,  but  if  you  want  to 
live  a  good  life,  you  are  welcome  to  a  home  as 
long  as  we  have  a  roof  over  our  heads.  You 
can  pay  two  dollars  per  week,  just  about  what 
the  food  costs,  and  I  will  do  your  washing  and 
mending.' 

"Within  a  couple  of  days  he  found  work. 
He  came  home  early  each  night  and  was  sober 
and  helpful  around  the  house.  He  seemed  in 
earnest  and  saved  his  money,  and  got  good 
clothes,  and  used  to  go  to  church  with  us  every 
Sunday;  and  my  mother  found  a  little  happi- 
ness in  her  sad  life,  by  watching  and  encour- 
aging him,  and  we  boys  loved  him.  Such  tales 
as  he  told  have  never  been  written  in  any  book. 
They  were  as  vivid  as  red  blood  from  a  new 
wound,  and  his  laugh  would  make  you  happy 
as  far  as  it  could  carry.  Those  nights  around 
the  old  cook  stove  in  the  kitchen  were  as  won- 
derful to  us  as  the  Arabian  Nights  and  Robinson 
Crusoe  could  have  been  to  more  fortunate  boys 
in  cosier  homes  than  ours. 


THE  STRANGER'S  STORY  141 

"By  spring  he  had  saved  about  $125  and  had 
paid  his  board  every  week.  One  day  he  bought 
a  team  and  wagon,  and  began  to  dray  around 
town.  He  did  well  from  the  start  and  soon  had 
his  outfit  paid  for  and  was  making  about  $60  a 
month  clear  of  expenses.  We  lived  in  the  corn 
country  and  that  year  was  a  great  corn  year. 
Uncle  Dan  took  in  a  partner  and  bought  a  corn 
sheller.  They  did  an  immense  business,  and 
met  their  payments  on  the  sheller  promptly. 
They  worked  early  and  late,  and  often  moved 
from  one  farm  to  another  at  night  to  save  time, 
and  they  were  making  lots  of  money  for  un- 
skilled laborers. 

"But  among  the  farmers  there  were  some  who 
kept  whiskey  at  home.  They  offered  Uncle  Dan 
some.  But  at  first  he  just  laughed  and  held 
fast  to  his  promises  to  Mother.  Then  one  day 
he  broke  over,  and  after  that  he  drank  when- 
ever it  was  offered. 

"My  mother  heard  of  it.  It  broke  her  heart. 
But  when  around  home,  he  was  still  sober. 
Mother  talked  to  him  and  he  would  promise, 
but  we  heard  of  his  lapses  more  and  more  fre- 
quently, until  the  shelling  season  was  over. 
Then  he  came  back  home  and  started  to  drive 
his  dray  and  for  a  while  he  was  his  old  self 
again.  Then  he  began  to  spend  his  evenings 
in  town  and  sometimes  came  home  late  with 


142        THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

the  odor  of  liquor  on  his  breath.  He  drank 
more  and  more  until  the  winter  went  by  and 
spring  came,  and  one  Saturday  night  he  got 
drunk  and  didn't  come  home  at  all  until  Mon- 
day morning.  That  was  the  beginning  of  the 
end. 

"In  our  town,  men  with  teams  had  many 
calls  to  plow  gardens.  Uncle  Dan  had.  Very 
early,  as  soon  as  the  frost  was  out  of  the  ground, 
Mother  had  asked  him  to  plow  ours.  Our  living 
depended  upon  a  good  garden.  He  neglected  it 
from  day  to  day  and  generally  came  home 
under  the  influence  of  liquor.  Mother,  fearing 
that  her  garden  might  be  late,  called  in  Dave 
Briggs  one  day  as  he  was  going  by  to  plow  it 
for  us. 

"He  had  just  finished  and  had  driven  away 
when  Uncle  Dan  drove  up,  and  this  time,  of 
course,  had  the  plow  in  his  wagon  to  do  the 
job.  He  was  drunker  than  usual,  and  when  he 
saw  the  garden  plowed,  he  exploded  in  a  frenzy 
of  anger.  Mother  and  some  of  the  children 
were  working  in  the  freshly  turned  soil,  close  to 
the  house.  Uncle  Dan  broke  loose  with  such  a 
flood  of  abusive  profanity  as  would  have  dis- 
graced a  pirate  crew. 

"Mother  tried  quietly  to  explain  the  neces- 
sity of  having  our  garden  in  early.  He  only 
became  the  more  furious  and  cursed  in  such 


THE  STRANGER'S  STORY  143 

language  as  must  have  blistered  his  tongue.  I 
was  hanging  in  terror,  a  seven-year-old  child,  to 
Mother's  dress.  Mother  said,  'Dan,  you  must 
stop  right  now.  I  can't  allow  such  language 
before  my  children.' 

"He  raised  his  fist  and  shook  it.  I  thought 
he  was  going  to  strike  her.  I  flew  at  him  in 
childish  rage,  and  beat  and  bit  him  on  the  leg. 
My  mother  pulled  me  away  and  sent  me  in  the 
house.  I  watched  through  the  window.  He 
was  still  cursing  like  a  mad  man  and  he  threat- 
ened to  kill  her. 

"I  fled  up  stairs  terrified  and  ran  to  a  little 
closet  where  Uncle  Dan's  army  musket  was 
kept.  It  was  always  loaded,  because  some- 
times we  would  get  a  cotton-tail  rabbit  for 
supper  by  having  the  gun  ready,  but  it  never 
had  a  cap  on.  I  snatched  it  up  from  the  corner 
where  it  leaned,  got  a  cap  from  the  cap  box 
and  tried  to  put  it  on  the  tube.  I  knew  how  it 
was  done,  for  I  had  seen  my  brothers  and  Uncle 
Dan  do  it  many  times,  but  I  was  not  strong 
enough  to  pull  the  hammer  back  with  one 
hand.  I  was  only  a  baby,  but  I  was  crazed 
about  my  mother's  danger.  I  dragged  the 
musket  to  the  window  and  put  the  end  of  the 
barrel  on  the  window  sill.  Then  I  raised  the 
butt  end  of  the  stock  against  my  stomach  and 
took  both  hands  and  pulled  the  hammer  back 


144        THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

and  put  on  the  cap.  I  looked  out  of  the  win- 
dow. Uncle  Dan  was  still  cursing  as  if  he  were 
damning  a  harlot.  The  foulest  language  of  the 
camp  and  saloons  poured  in  torrents  from  him. 

"I  knew  how  to  sight  a  gun,  for  my  brothers 
had  showed  me,  but  they  had  never  allowed 
me  to  hold  it.  I  lifted  the  stock  to  my  breast 
and  put  my  little  hand  inside  the  guard  in  front 
of  the  trigger  and  sighted  down  the  barrel  and 
swayed  from  side  to  side  until  I  had  my  uncle 
covered. 

"I  meant  to  kill  him.  Why  I  did  not  pull 
the  trigger  then,  God  knows.  But  a  neighbor 
who  had  heard  the  abuse  a  block  away  came 
into  the  yard  and  led  my  uncle  toward  the 
wagon  and  Mother  started  toward  the  house. 

"Then  it  happened.  I  must  have  pulled  the 
trigger  unconsciously,  for  the  gun  went  off 
and  bored  a  hole  in  the  coal  shed  as  big  as  a 
walnut  and  kicked  me  across  the  room  with  all 
the  breath  knocked  out  of  me.  I  would  have 
killed  them  both  if  it  had  happened  ten  seconds 
sooner,  and  we  would  have  been  orphans  and  I 
would  have  been  a  murderer,  with  the  blood  of 
my  own  mother  and  my  uncle  on  my  hands.  It 
has  haunted  me  for  nearly  forty  years.  Some- 
times to  this  day,  I  waken  in  the  night  drenched 
with  a  cold  sweat  when  I  dream  of  it. 

"Gentlemen,  that  is  my  story,  and  in  it  is 


"7  lifted  the  stock  to  my 
breast  and  put  my  little 
hand  inside  the  guard" 


146        THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

reason  for  wishing  to  prevent  my  Uncle  Dan 
and  every  other  Uncle  Dan  in  the  world  from 
using  liquor,  whether  he  wants  to  or  not." 

He  stopped.  Every  face  was  white  and  our 
muscles  were  tense.  It  was  a  tragic  scene.  As 
the  story  had  unfolded  to  the  climax,  not  a 
man  had  moved.  Not  one  of  us  had  taken  our 
eyes  from  the  Stranger's  face,  and  at  the  last 
we  held  our  breath  as  we  saw  the  baby  at  the 
upstairs  window  with  an  army  musket,  sighting 
along  the  barrel  to  commit  murder. 

The  silence  was  broken  after  a  while  by  the 
aggressive  young  man  who  had  given  the  chal- 
lenge. "Good  God,"  he  said,  "just  a  baby 
trying  to  protect  his  mother  from  the  drunken 
brute.  Why,  why,"  he  choked,  "I  have  a  little 
chap  just  that  age.  He  is  only  a  baby  and  goes 
to  sleep  in  his  mother's  lap." 

Then  he  turned  to  the  Stranger  and  held  out 
his  hand.  "I  don't  blame  you  for  being  a  Dry. 
Why,  I'd  be  as  Dry  as  Hell  if  I'd  gone  through 
a  thing  like  that.  There  isn't  an  argument  in 
the  world  that  can  answer  it." 

Then  he  threw  back  his  head  and  with  the 
old  defiance,  he  said,  "Gentlemen,  listen  to  me. 
I  am  Dry  too  from  this  hour.  What  good  is  our 
philosophy  if  it  doesn't  protect  the  mother  and 
her  babies?  They  are  about  all  we  have.  Why, 
why,"  he  stammered,  "I'd  have  as  much  right 


THE  STRANGER'S  STORY  147 

to  burn  the  house  over  them  while  they  sleep 
as  to  fill  their  hearts  with  fear  and  terror.  It  is 
queer  how  many  kinds  of  a  damned  fool  a  man 
will  be  just  to  justify  a  theory  or  an  argument." 
He  stood  still,  and  no  one  moved  for  several 
minutes  while  he  looked  out  at  the  white  caps 
breaking  on  the  beach,  and  then  he  continued, 
as  if  talking  to  himself.  "Good  God!"  he  said, 
with  more  of  reverence  than  profanity,  "only 
a  baby  like  little  George,  Jr.,  at  home.  Just  a 
baby  fighting  with  a  madman  to  protect  his 
mother.  There  isn't  an  answer  in  the  world  to 
that." 


WHAT  WILL  A  FATHER  GIVE  FOR  HIS 

SONS? 


WHAT  WILL  A  FATHER  GIVE  FOR  HIS 

SONS? 

I  WAS  not  yet  twenty  years  of  age  and  had 
lived  much  as  other  boys  had  lived  before 
me.  I  hadn't  been  very  careful  or  considerate, 
but  a  few  years  ago  something  happened  which 
lifted  a  curtain  on  life  and  let  me  look  at  the 
naked  soul  of  a  Good  Man.  It  was  a  tragedy 
and  a  glory.  My  spirit  has  been  enthralled  and 
awed  ever  since,  and  I  hope  that  its  influence 
will  never  leave  me  to  the  last  day  of  my  life. 
The  more  I  think  of  it  the  more  awful  and  won- 
derful it  seems. 

I  wonder  if  other  boys  have  ever  seen  the 
naked  soul  of  a  Good  Man  when  he  takes  God's 
hand  and  leads  Him  into  the  private  room  of 
his  life  and  talks  with  Him.  All  the  vestments 
of  his  usual  manner  fall  away.  He  attempts  to 
conceal  nothing.  He  takes  every  secret  from  its 
hiding  place  and  lays  it  before  his  Father.  He 
excuses  nothing.  He  dodges  no  responsibility. 
He  does  not  have  any  fear  for  himself.  He 
talks  to  God  about  every  act  and  deed  as  if  he 
knows  he  is  being  understood;  and  as  if  he  un- 
derstands, too,  that  there  can  be  no  compro- 

151 


152        THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

mise,  and  that  he  must  be  prepared  to  pay 
the  full  price  for  each  boon  he  asks. 

The  strange  scene  seemed  normal,  yet  ab- 
normal; natural,  yet  uncanny;  simple,  yet 
colossal — as  if  the  world  and  destiny  and  God 
Himself  were  in  some  way  involved  in  the 
solution  of  this  Good  Man's  problems.  I  can 
see  it  all  as  I  saw  it  then,  but  the  scene  is  too 
large  for  me  to  express  in  words.  It  was  sub- 
lime. Maybe  I  cannot  make  you  see  it,  but  I 
shall  tell  you  in  my  simple  way  all  that  I  saw 
and  what  happened. 

And  the  Man,  I  think  that  he  will  not  resent 
this  story  when  he  sees  it.  The  Man — the 
Good  Man — will  understand  because  he  is  my 
father  and  he  will  understand  me  as  his  Father 
understood  him,  I  think. 

My  father  was  close  to  the  president  as  an 
official  in  a  large  railway  company.  His  posi- 
tion compelled  him  to  attend  to  many  im- 
portant affairs  during  the  absence  of  his  chief. 
His  office  adjoined  the  president's  office  at  the 
end  of  the  long  hall. 

The  president  had  been  in  Europe  many 
weeks,  and  my  father  had  worked  long  hours 
each  day.  One  night  when  it  was  almost  time 
to  go  home  I  slipped  into  Father's  office.  He 
was  in  the  president's  room  working  over  his 
papers,  and  did  not  hear  me  enter.  I  kept 


"Then  he  knelt  by  the 
large  office  chair  and  put 
his  face  in  his  hands" 


154         THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

quiet,  thinking  I  would  surprise  him.  But  he 
did  not  come  out.  The  rooms  seemed  very 
still.  The  outer  offices  had  emptied  at  five 
o'clock.  It  was  getting  dark,  but  the  city  lights 
streamed  in  through  the  windows.  After  awhile 
I  peered  through  the  crack  of  the  door;  Father 
was  standing  at  the  window  looking  down  upon 
the  city  far  below  him.  I  was  about  to  run  and 
grab  him,  when  something  in  his  attitude  ar- 
rested my  attention.  I  stood  as  still  as  he, 
watching  him.  After  a  while  he  removed  his 
hat  and  dropped  it  on  a  chair  beside  him;  then 
he  lifted  his  face  to  the  stars  which  were  coming 
out  in  the  heavens.  It  gave  me  a  strange  feel- 
ing, as  if  I  were  watching  a  silent  tragedy.  He 
stood  that  way  a  long  time,  and  to  me,  watching, 
the  whole  world  seemed  to  be  revolving  around 
him.  I  held  my  breath.  Then  he  knelt  by  the 
large  office  chair  and  put  his  face  in  his  hands 
and  began  to  pray  very  simply: 

"My  Father,  I  want  to  talk  to  you  awhile  be- 
fore I  go  home  to  the  little  mother  who  is 
waiting  and  the  boys  who,  I  hope,  are  with 
her.  It  is  about  the  boys  that  I  need  advice 
and  wisdom.  They  are  getting  away  from  us 
and  the  wholesome  habits  we  have  formed.  You 
know  all  the  struggles  and  sins  and  mistakes 
of  my  own  life.  You  know  what  they  have  cost 
me  and  the  price  I  have  had  to  pay  for  them, 


WHAT  WILL  A  FATHER  GIVE?       155 

but  when  I  found  You  I  found  Life  with  its 
wonderful  blessings.  I  have  hidden  nothing 
from  You.  You  know  what  violence  of  anger  I 
had  to  overcome.  You  know  what  an  appetite 
burned  within  me.  You  know  what  passions 
tried  to  drive  me.  You  know  the  other  woman 
who  would  have  enticed  me  down  the  dark  path 
which  leads  to  the  Rivers  of  Sorrow.  You  turn 
the  pages  of  my  life  like  the  pages  of  a  book — 
not  one  thing  is  hidden  from  You,  and  yet  You 
are  my  Friend.  And  You  know  the  little  woman 
with  the  heart  of  an  angel  who  has  given  her 
love  to  me,  and  all  that  she  has  been  to  me 
through  the  passing  years.  And  now  I  come  to 
You  with  our  great  joy  and  our  great  sorrow — 
the  children.  We  love  them,  I  think  sometimes 
even  as  You  have  loved  us.  Our  blood  runs  in 
their  veins.  They  must  be  our  happiness  or  our 
despair.  In  them  we  live  or  die.  For  them  we 
pray  and  toil  and  for  them  we  would  make  any 
sacrifice  and  suffer  any  pain,  even  as  the  little 
mother  suffered  when  they  came  to  us.  And  we 
would  suffer  with  a  great  joy  because  we  love 
them  with  a  great  love.  Now,  Father,  this  is 
the  problem  which  I  bring  to  You  for  the  little 
mother  and  myself.  What  is  it  we  must  do  to 
lead  the  boys  back  and  start  them  on  the  King's 
Highway? 

"What  price  must  we  pay  for  this  priceless 


156        THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

privilege  of  being  a  father  and  mother?  What 
sacrifices  must  we  make  in  order  to  lead  them 
close  to  You  so  that  they  may  learn  to  love 
You?  What  ransom  must  we  deliver  to  the 
world  to  prove  the  great  love  we  have  for  them? 
Are  many  comforts  spoiling  the  fineness  of  their 
natures?  Then,  Father,  take  from  us  all  that  we 
have  and  keep  us  very  poor. 

"If  pride  is  marring  them,  then,  O  Father, 
make  us  humble  in  Your  own  way.  Maybe  they 
have  not  had  sorrow  enough  to  make  them  see 
the  Shining  Light  of  the  Way  of  Life;  then  give 
them  the  sorrow  necessary  to  make  them  see. 
Maybe  they  must  learn  the  strength  which 
comes  from  the  tragic  battle  for  bread.  Then, 
O  Father  of  mine,  give  them  the  battle! 

"Maybe  they  have  been  harbored  too  much. 
Perhaps  there  may  have  to  be  sickness  or  death 
in  their  training  school  for  life.  They  are  on 
the  wrong  highway.  The  end  cannot  bring  the 
glory  of  love  which  we  find  in  serving  You. 
They  must  be  brought  back  at  any  cost — not  as 
a  punishment,  but  as  a  blessing.  I  must  have 
neglected  them  somewhere  along  the  way.  Ex- 
cept what  they  must  pay  themselves,  let  me  pay 
the  price,  whatever  it  may  be,  for  my  neglect. 
If  the  cost  must  be  sickness  or  accident,  let  me 
bear  it  to  win  them  to  You.  If  it  must  be  the 
shock  of  death,  let  me  bear  that,  too.  They 


WHAT  WILL  A  FATHER  GIVE?       157 

would  have  no  compass  of  life  without  the  little 
mother  to  love  them. 

"And  death,  why  should  I  fear  death?  Are 
You  not  within  it  and  around  it  and  beyond  it 
to  walk  with  me  all  the  way?  Did  not  Jesus  lay 
down  his  life  for  His  friends  and  His  enemies? 
And  shall  I  not  lay  down  my  life  gladly,  too,  for 
my  own  boys?  My  Father,  You  know  my  heart. 
I  love  You.  I  love  You.  You  know  that  I  love 
You.  If  necessary,  grant  to  me  this  privilege, 
my  Father,  to  lay  down  my  life  for  my  sons.  To 
give  my  life  is  such  a  little  thing  for  me  to  give, 
if  through  it  the  boys  shall  find  that  to  serve 
You  is  the  highest  happiness  and  greatest  joy." 

I  couldn't  hear  any  more.  I  slipped  out  of 
the  door  and  ran — ran  until  I  was  breathless. 
Father  came  home  after  a  while.  He  seemed  the 
same,  except  a  rare  glow  was  upon  his  face. 

Early  that  night  I  coaxed  Harry  to  go  to 
bed.  When  we  were  alone,  I  told  him  all  that 
I  had  seen  and  heard,  and  how  Father  had 
prayed  that  God  might  let  him  give  his  life  for 
us,  as  Jesus  had  done  for  the  world.  Harry 
was  two  years  younger  than  I.  He  threw  his 
arms  around  me  and  sobbed.  We  talked  it  all 
over  for  a  long  time,  then  we  kneeled  by  the 
bed  and  prayed.  We  talked  to  God  as  Father 
had,  and  told  Him  we  would  make  any  sacrifice, 
and  go  with  Him  anywhere  He  would  show  us, 


158        THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

and  that  we  wanted  to  grow  to  make  our  father 
and  mother  as  proud  of  us  as  we  were  of  them. 
And  now  we  have  learned  what  a  wonderful 
thing  it  was  that  Father  offered  to  do  for  us: 
to  lay  down  his  lif e  for  his  sons. 


THE  DOCTOR'S  FIGHT 


THE  DOCTOR'S  FIGHT 

THERE  were  ten  of  us  making  the  journey 
by  boat  up  the  river.  We  had  been  in 
the  dining-room  for  supper,  and  when  we  came 
on  deck  we  took  chairs  near  the  rail  and  looked 
out  over  the  waters.  The  moon  was  rising.  It 
was  almost  full,  and  flooded  the  world  with  its 
glory.  There  were  music  and  dancing.  It  was 
a  night  for  love  and  laughter  and  many  songs. 

We  were  older  men — past  forty — and  sat  a 
little  apart.  We  watched  the  happy  scene  of 
youth  for  an  hour  or  two,  saying  little  among 
ourselves.  Nine  of  these  men  had  come  to  the 
city  in  young  manhood  and  had  known  each 
other  intimately  for  fifteen  or  twenty  years. 
My  acquaintance  had  been  shorter. 

After  a  long  silence  one  of  the  men  said, 
pointing  toward  the  scene  of  festivity:  "Let 
them  laugh  while  they  can.  They  don't  know 
yet  where  tragedy  sleeps.  This  night  reminds 
me  of  one  like  it  when  I  was  young  and  in  the 
midst  of  our  joy  the  ship  went  down." 

We  were  curious,  and  so  he  told  us  the  story 
with  all  the  details  of  his  miraculous  escape. 
This  was  the  first  of  many  stories  of  adventure 
and  danger  which  followed. 

161 


162        THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

Among  us  was  a  well-known  doctor.  He  was 
tall  and  strong  and  straight,  with  a  keen  eye, 
clear-cut  features,  and  iron  gray  hair.  He  was 
interested,  but  showed  no  inclination  to  give  us 
a  chapter  from  his  life.  The  others  noticed  it 
and  began  to  call  for  a  story.  He  smiled  and 
shook  his  head.  The  wit  of  the  crowd  ex- 
claimed: "What  can  a  doctor  tell  us  about 
danger  and  adventure?  The  worst  weapon  he 
knows  is  the  carving  knife  of  the  dissecting 
room,  and  he  won't  use  that  until  his  atten- 
dants put  the  man  to  sleep  and  bind  him,  and 
then  the  great  surgeon — like  the  captain  of  a 
pirate  crew — steps  up  and  cuts  the  victim  to 
pieces  and  sews  him  up  and  makes  off  with  a 
thousand  dollars  in  plunder  which  he  takes 
from  a  man  when  he  is  down,  and  everything 
is  covered  up  by  his  profession  and  the  law. 
The  medical  profession  is  the  only  brand  of 
brigands  we  have  left  still  honored  by  the 
populace  and  the  State." 

We  all  laughed. 

And  the  doctor  said:  "It  is  true  that  I  haven't 
had  those  popular  adventures  which  you  have 
had,  but  no  one  sees  more  of  pathos  and  tragedy 
and  heroism  than  the  practicing  physician.  I 
know  many  stories,  but  they  belong  to  my  pa- 
tients and  I  am  not  at  liberty  to  tell  them.  The 
great  tragedies  are  not  those  which  are  cabled 


THE  DOCTOR'S  FIGHT  163 

around  the  world  and  fill  the  newspapers  and 
appall  the  people  who  read  them.  The  great 
tragedies  are  those  which  occur  hi  the  home  or 
in  the  personal  life  of  individuals  and  are  fought 
out  in  silence  to  the  end,  whatever  the  end  may 
be." 

He  stopped  and  looked  at  us  a  minute  and 
then  continued  tentatively:  "There  is  one  which 
I  might  tell.  No  one  knows  the  details  except 
my  wife  and  myself.  I  hesitate  to  relate  it  be- 
cause there  are  so  many  things  in  it  which 
marred  the  body  and  scarred  the  soul.  It  is 
almost  like  going  to  hell  and  coming  back  after 
exploring  all  the  mysteries  of  that  strange  land. 
The  only  reason  for  telling  it  at  all  is  for  the 
good  it  may  do.  We  are  old  friends  and  I  know 
that  you  will  pardon  the  personal  intimacy 
involved." 

We  begged  for  the  story. 

"Well,"  he  continued,  "when  I  first  began 
practice  it  was  very  slow,  but  much  to  the  sur- 
prise of  everyone  who  knew  me,  when  it  did 
come  it  came  fast,  and  while  I  was  still  young 
I  had  a  very  large  business.  Many  of  my  cases 
required  a  surgeon,  and  so  I  began  to  study 
and  practice  surgery.  Fortune  favored  me  and 
soon  I  had  more  than  one  man  ought  to  carry. 
A  friend  of  mine  warned  me  against  the  danger 
of  overwork. 


164        THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

"  'Nothing  can  break  a  constitution  made  m 
a  cornfield/  I  told  him. 

"But  mine  broke. 

"The  first  symptoms  were  in  a  strange  weari- 
ness. I  became  drowsy.  I  was  sleepy  all  of 
the  time.  Then  my  sleep  became  light  and 
there  were  dreams,  always  dreams.  Then  sleep 
began  to  desert  me,  until  I  could  sleep  only 
from  eleven  till  one.  Then  I  would  lie  awake 
until  morning,  while  my  head  would  throb  and 
ache  with  the  hot  blood  which  my  heart  had 
pumped  into  it  during  the  long  hours  of  the 
night  to  feed  the  brain  which  had  never  stopped 
its  thinking. 

"This  was  only  the  beginning. 

"Up  to  this  time  in  serious  operations  my 
mind  would  become  luminous  and  my  hand  was 
as  steady  as  a  hunter's.  My  success  was  aston- 
ishing, and  this  brought  more  practice  and 
increased  my  burden. 

"Then  another  phase  of  nerve-sickness  came 
to  me.  I  began  to  have  hallucinations.  Ca- 
lamities were  impending  from  every  quarter.  I 
was  like  a  criminal  who  has  committed  some 
black  deed  in  the  night  and  knows  that  the 
whole  world  is  looking  for  him.  Only  in  the 
operating-room  was  I  free. 

"But  after  the  operations — !    Ah,  then — ! 

"Away  from  my  work  my  home  was  my  sal- 


THE  DOCTOR'S  FIGHT  165 

vation.  My  wife  had  always  had  a  restful 
quality  for  me  even  before  marriage.  She  had 
developed  many  more  charms  as  a  wife  and  a 
mother  of  three  children.  I  was  proud  of  her 
and  of  them,  and  yet  one  night  I  came  home 
and  said  and  did  things  which  ought  never  to 
have  been  forgiven. 

"Then  I  entered  that  other  room  of  nerve- 
sickness.  It  is  the  room  of  secrecy  and  solitude, 
where  a  man  has  come  to  fear  himself.  I  had 
lost  my  self-control.  I  loathed  myself,  and  one 
night  before  going  home,  in  desperation  I  took 
a  hypodermic  injection  of  morphine.  It  was 
my  first. 

"That  night  when  I  wakened  I  remembered 
what  I  had  done  and  I  saw  the  ruin  of  my  life 
before  me.  I  did  not  sleep.  I  fought  my  ene- 
mies until  the  morning  dawned.  My  body  was 
tender  and  sore  and  my  head  was  throbbing 
with  hot  blood.  I  got  up  and  took  a  cold  bath 
and  went  down  to  breakfast. 

"There  is  no  tragedy  in  human  life  like  this 
secret  fear  within  yourself.  You  will  tell  no 
one.  You  defend  it  as  if  it  were  a  gem  of 
great  worth.  You  live  in  terror  lest  it  be  dis- 
covered. 

"Have  you  been  in  a  hotel  fire  when  all  the 
stories  below  you  were  in  flames? 

"Has  a  secret  enemy  sent  you  a  message, 


166        THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

that  within  three  days  or  five  he  will  shoot  you 
from  ambush,  in  the  back? 

"Have  you  had  leprosy? 

"Have  you  had  a  son  who  has  become  a  thief? 

"Have  you  had  a  daughter  become  infatuated 
with  a  libertine? 

"These  things  are  terrible.  They  are  fright- 
ful. They  are  colossal.  They  are  monstrous. 

"But  they  are  not  overwhelming.  You  still 
have  hope.  You  hope  that  you  may  alight  in 
the  net  one  hundred  feet  below  when  you  jump 
from  the  window.  You  hope  that  your  enemy 
may  miss  his  mark.  You  hope  that  your  phy- 
sician may  find  a  remedy  for  the  leprosy.  You 
hope  that  your  son  may  return  to  honor.  You 
hope  that  your  daughter  may  withstand  her 
lover. 

"But  when  your  diseased  nerves  turn  you 
against  yourself  you  are  filled  with  despair. 
You  cannot  run  from  yourself.  You  cannot 
hide.  You  go  to  bed  with  this  monster  stitched 
up  within  your  skin.  You  awaken  with  it. 
You  eat  your  breakfast  and  your  luncheon  and 
your  dinner  with  it.  You  work  with  it.  It  is  as 
close  to  you  as  the  blood  in  your  veins  or  the 
thought  hi  your  mind. 

"Despair  is  the  Deluge  of  Calamity. 

"It  rains  from  the  skies. 

"It  rises  from  the  earth. 


THE  DOCTOR'S  FIGHT  167 

"It  surrounds  you. 

"It  submerges  you. 

"There  is  no  hope,  there  is  only  fear  of  this 
madman  roaming  within  the  realms  of  the  mind. 

"Religion  cannot  hold  it. 

"Philosophy  cannot  lead  it. 

"The  laws  of  the  land  cannot  restrain  it. 

"Only  health  can  chain  it.  But  it  has  con- 
quered health.  You  are  sick. 

"The  madman  sits  in  the  throne-room  of 
reason. 

"You  are  at  war  with  yourself.  You  fear 
everything  within  yourself. 

"You  are  a  craven.  You  are  a  coward  and 
yet  each  day  you  fight  this  madman  with  a 
desperation  of  valor  never  displayed  on  the 
field  of  battle. 

"A  man  without  hope.  A  man  submerged  by 
Despair!  This  is  the  Cataclysm.  This  is  the 
Ultimate  Ruin. 

"I  lived  in  hell. 

"One  day  I  opened  a  drawer  where  a  revolver 
had  been  placed.  I  picked  it  up.  It  fascinated 
me.  I  opened  it  and  saw  the  little  messengers 
of  death  lying  snug  in  their  chambers.  I  closed 
it  and  turned  around.  My  nurse  was  sitting  at 
a  table  with  her  back  to  me.  I  had  the  impulse 
to  lift  the  weapon  and  fire.  I  saw  the  whole 
scene.  I  would  pull  the  trigger.  The  blood 


168        THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

would  spurt  from  the  back  of  her  head.  She 
would  fall  limply  on  the  floor.  People  would 
rush  in.  The  police  would  be  called.  I  would 
be  taken  to  jail.  There  would  be  a  hearing.  I 
would  be  returned  to  jail  without  bond.  There 
would  be  a  scandal  because  of  the  woman.  The 
city  would  be  shocked.  My  family  would  be 
prostrated. 

"Men  and  women  would  talk.  They  would 
say:  Tt  is  terrible.  We  are  sorry  for  the  doc- 
tor's family.  It  is  hard  to  believe.  The  doctor 
has  always  borne  a  good  reputation,  but  you 
never  can  tell.  And  Miss  ,  the  young 


And  so  they  would  talk  and  condemn  her  and 
condemn  me  and  not  one  would  know  that  it 
was  the  madman  who  had  got  control  in  a 
moment  when  I  was  off  my  guard. 

"Suddenly  the  nurse  turned  and  looked  at 
me.  I  asked  quietly  to  whom  the  revolver  be- 
longed. She  told  me.  'He  ought  not  to  leave 
it  loaded,'  I  said,  and  replaced  it  in  the  drawer. 

"From  that  day  I  was  terrified  at  the  sight 
of  anything  which  I  could  use  as  a  weapon. 
The  next  morning  I  started  to  shave  myself  as 
I  had  always  done.  Suddenly  the  impulse  came 
to  let  the  blade  slip  at  the  jugular  vein.  I  was 
looking  at  it  with  this  hi  mind  when  I  heard 
the  voice  of  my  wife  in  the  adjoining  room 


THE  DOCTOR'S  FIGHT  169 

talking  baby  talk  to  the  baby.  I  put  the  razor 
away  and  never  shaved  afterward  in  those  days. 

"If  I  were  near  an  incoming  train  I  had  the 
impulse  to  throw  myself  under  it  or  shove  some 
one  else  under  and  watch  the  ghastly  scene. 

"I  began  to  be  afraid  of  my  surgical  instru- 
ments— those  blades  tempered  finer  than  Da- 
mascus steel  and  sharper  than  a  flame  of  fire. 
In  my  mind  they  were  becoming  weapons  of 
destruction  and  violence. 

"One  morning  I  wakened  at  twelve  forty-five 
and  began  to  think  of  an  operation  booked  for 
ten  o'clock.  I  could  see  all  the  complications 
which  might  arise,  but  I  followed  it  through  in 
my  mind  to  a  successful  conclusion.  It  was  a 
very  critical  operation  and  required  the  greatest 
skill  and  precision.  At  the  very  crisis  the 
slightest  deviation  of  the  instrument  might 
prove  fatal.  This  critical  phase  kept  recurring 
to  my  mind  until  I  seemed  to  see  the  knife  slip. 

"Morning  came.  I  called  a  well-known  sur- 
geon to  help  me.  I  had  never  feared  an  opera- 
tion before.  The  more  skill  required,  the  more 
I  had  enjoyed  it.  I  started  with  the  work,  but 
as  I  approached  the  crisis  my  courage  failed  and 
I  handed  the  knife  to  my  friend  and  stepped 
aside. 

"There  is  nothing  so  fatal  to  the  surgeon  as 
timidity  or  fear. 


170        THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

"I  went  to  my  office  and  turned  my  patients 
over  to  my  assistant.  I  locked  myself  in  my 
private  room  and  all  day  as  well  as  a  sick  man 
can,  I  went  over  my  affairs.  I  read  my  will.  I 
figured  all  my  loans.  I  examined  my  insurance 
policies.  I  had  my  books  balanced.  I  had  a 
report  on  my  bank  account.  I  looked  at  my 
whole  life  and  saw  its  remarkable  success  and 
its  complete  failure.  I  was  under  forty  and  I 
was  insane  with  sickness.  This  was  to  be  the 
last  day. 

"I  wrote  a  letter  of  instructions  to  my  at- 
torney, and  a  letter  of  love  to  my  wife,  and 
about  the  time  I  usually  left  the  office  I  called 
her  by  'phone  and  told  her  that  I  would  not 
be  home  that  night.  There  was  no  more  fear. 
Everything  was  settled.  Disease  had  triumphed 
at  last. 

"I  had  always  had  some  religion.  I  hadn't 
practiced  it  very  well.  No  man  is  practicing  a 
sane  religion  when  he  is  bartering  his  health  for 
wealth  or  influence.  It  is  like  swapping  dia- 
monds for  sawdust.  But  in  that  last  hour  I 
knelt  in  my  office  and  thanked  the  Lord  for 
allowing  me  to  come  to  the  end  without  leaving 
the  stain  of  crime  upon  my  name  and  family. 
I  sat  quietly  for  a  long  time,  and  then  a  longing 
to  see  my  wife  and  children  once  more  came 
over  me. 


"7  started  toward  her,  but 
stopped  " 


172        THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

"I  went  out  home  and  let  myself  into  the 
house  without  noise,  then  I  went  stealthily  up 
the  heavily  carpeted  stairs  and  stepped  into  the 
room  where  the  children  lay.  I  looked  at  them 
a  long  while,  then  I  kissed  each  one.  There 
were  tears  in  my  eyes  and  an  ache  in  my  throat. 
I  looked  into  my  wife's  room.  She  was  not  on 
the  bed.  She  was  kneeling  beside  it  with  her 
hands  clasped  in  front  of  her,  praying.  I  loved 
her  in  that  moment  more  than  I  had  ever  loved 
her.  Soon  she  began  to  sob,  and  raising  her 
face  she  cried  with  a  passionate,  almost  noise- 
less cry:  'Oh,  my  Father  in  Heaven,  show  me 
how  to  save  my  lover  and  my  husband  and 
bring  him  back  from  the  sickness  which  is 
upon  him.  I  have  called  to  You  a  thousand 
times  and  You  have  promised  to  answer  my 
prayer.' 

"Then  she  broke  down  and  with  her  face  in 
her  hands  she  sobbed  as  if  her  life,  too,  had  been 
submerged  in  desolation. 

"I  started  toward  her,  but  stopped.  I  slipped 
out  into  the  hall  and  down  the  stairs  and  opened 
the  door  and  closed  it  with  the  usual  noise  and 
called  to  her  softly.  She  came  down  in  her 
night  dress,  her  hair  falling  about  her  face  and 
shoulders,  and  threw  herself  into  my  arms,  still 
sobbing. 

"So  the  end  was  not  yet. 


THE  DOCTOR'S  FIGHT  173 

"My  wife  kept  me  at  home  and  sent  for  the 
best  nerve  specialist  in  the  city. 

'  'Rest,  rest,  rest,'  he  said.    'Rest  and  travel.' 

"My  wife  was  not  willing  to  let  me  go  abroad 
unless  she  could  go,  too,  and  the  baby  was  too 
young  for  such  a  journey.  She  followed  the 
specialist  down  stairs  and  asked  if  there  were 
not  some  way  for  me  to  recuperate  at  home. 

'Yes,'  he  said.  'Your  husband  can  if  he 
will,  but  he  won't.  Homesickness  abroad  kills 
as  many  as  the  travel  cures.  Home  is  the  place 
for  any  sick  man  if  he  will  eliminate  all  of  his 
business  and  professional  interests.' 

'  'I'll  see  to  that,'  my  wife  assured  him. 

'  'All  right,'  he  said.  'If  you  will  see  to  that 
I'll  see  to  the  rest  of  it.  There  isn't  any  organic 
disease,  and  we  shall  bring  your  doctor  through 
ii  you  will  take  out  the  telephone  and  place  a 
big  Irishman  with  a  basket-full  of  brickbats  in 
the  front  yard.' 

"My  wife  followed  instructions.  She  took  out 
the  'phone,  disconnected  the  door  bell,  and  took 
the  Irishman's  place  herself.  Not  a  friend  or 
foe  could  get  past  her. 

"Now  that  I  was  away  from  my  work  and 
saw  no  one,  a  strange  lassitude  came  over  me. 
I  felt  as  if  all  the  blood  had  been  drained  from 
my  body.  On  the  third  morning  a  young  man 
came  to  the  house.  He  was  a  perfect  specimen 


174         THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

of  health.  He  was  the  physical  director  of  the 
Young  Men's  Christian  Association.  The  doc- 
tor had  sent  him  to  arrange  some  light  physical 
exercises.  I  was  too  languid  to  have  any  in- 
terest, but  my  wife  saw  that  I  followed  instruc- 
tions. After  a  while  I  was  using  dumbbells  and 
Indian  clubs  and  wall  weights.  Then  young 
Baker  began  calling  for  me  at  eight  in  the 
morning.  We  went  to  the  gym,  where  I  took 
exercise  on  the  track,  and  when  I  had  finished 
my  run  I  would  take  a  plunge  and  go  home 
with  my  wife,  who  always  came  for  me.  These 
were  the  new  tactics  against  the  madman.  This 
was  the  'last  ditch'  fight  for  life. 

"At  the  end  of  the  month  I  asked  the  director 
what  I  owed  him.  'Not  a  thing,'  he  said.  'If  it 
has  been  worth  anything  to  you,  you  may  take 
out  a  membership  in  the  Association.  This  is 
God's  Training  School.  It  is  a  much  better 
preventative  than  it  is  a  cure. 

'  'No  one  ever  caught  nervous  prostration  in 
a  gymnasium  and  not  many  can  keep  it  if  they 
come  here. 

;  'We  are  like  a  great  music  house  which 
builds  up  and  repairs  and  tunes  every  instru- 
ment brought  to  it.  Only  our  instruments  are 
men,  and  we  would  much  rather  keep  them  in 
tune  than  to  take  an  old  broken-down  instru- 
ment which  has  been  banged  and  battered  for 


THE  DOCTOR'S  FIGHT  175 

twenty  years.  Did  you  know  that  the  soul  will 
get  out  of  tune  in  a  sick  body,  Doctor?  Well,  we 
have  a  repair  shop  for  the  soul,  too.  Some 
morning  when  you  are  on  the  track,  if  you  will 
listen  you  will  hear  God  walking  through  the 
building.  Maybe  He  will  take  a  few  laps  by 
your  side,  as  He  has  many  times  with  me,  and 
some  time  when  you  get  stronger,  when  the 
blood  is  coursing  freely  through  your  veins  and 
your  mind  is  clear  and  hope  begins  to  shine 
within  you,  maybe  He  will  speak  to  you  as  a 
Great  Father  speaks  to  a  good  son,  and  don't 
forget,  Doctor,  that  the  Great  God  is  a  God  of 
Health  as  well  as  a  God  of  Love. 

*  'Health  is  God's  breath  in  the  body  as 
Love  is  God's  breath  in  the  soul.' 

"I  came  to  enjoy  the  gymnasium  as  I  had 
never  enjoyed  any  exercise  in  my  life.  In  the 
summer  I  played  tennis  and  golf,  but  with  the 
first  chilly  weather  I  was  in  the  gym  again.  My 
strength  was  coming  back.  My  body  was  get- 
ting stronger  every  day.  Health  was  driving 
sickness  from  all  of  its  lairs.  My  will  was 
gaining  its  old  vigor  and  my  mind  was  keen 
and  clear,  and  I  said,  'I  am  going  to  be  a  strong 
man  once  more.' 

"One  day  I  was  riding  with  my  wife's  pastor 
and  I  seemed  to  see  the  world  with  a  vision 
which  I  had  never  had  before,  and  I  said  to  him : 


176        THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

"  'What  chance  has  the  sick  man  in  the  strug- 
gle of  life? 

"  'How  will  the  blind  man  paint  for  the  gal- 
lery? 

"  'How  will  the  mute  woman  sing  for  the 
multitude? 

"  'How  will  the  dyspeptic  cook  for  the  king? 

"  'How  will  the  hysterical  preacher  feed  the 
minds  of  strong  men? 

"  'How  will  the  doctor  shaken  by  disease  treat 
the  patient? 

"  'How  will  the  sick  judge  dispense  justice? 

"  'How  will  the  business  man  with  jangling 
nerves  succeed  in  business? 

"  'How  will  the  man  fighting  wild  beasts 
within  himself  win  the  woman  he  loves,  or 
love  the  woman  he  wins,  or  be  a  sane  father  to 
his  children?' 

"And  yet  we  have  sick  people  in  this  city 
and  in  every  other  city;  hundreds  of  thousands 
of  them — who  could  be  strong  if  they  would 
be,  by  the  simple  method  of  exercise  to  prevent 
disease  and  to  build  up  the  body  when  it  has 
been  abused  and  weakened.  If  people  could 
know  the  value  in  health  and  joy  from  exercise 
there  would  be  fifty  gymnasiums  in  this  town 
and  every  one  crowded  and  with  a  waiting  list. 
They  would  be  more  popular  than  picture 
shows. 


THE  DOCTOR'S  FIGHT  177 

"Well,  the  day  before  I  was  ready  to  resume 
my  practice  I  was  taking  my  usual  exercise  and 
I  was  thinking  of  how  the  Good  Lord  had 
blessed  me.  My  whole  being  was  filled  with 
thanksgiving,  when  I  seemed  to  feel  a  presence 
as  of  some  one  near  and  a  voice  said  to  me  as 
plainly  as  if  you  were  speaking:  'Blessed  is  the 
man  whose  wife  has  loved  him  in  the  days  of 
disaster.' 

"I  hurried  through  my  exercise,  took  my 
plunge  and  went  home.  I  found  my  wife  and 
put  my  arm  around  her  and  kissed  her  and  told 
her  all  that  had  happened.  She  didn't  say  a 
word,  but  looked  at  me  as  though  she  would 
devour  me  while  she  led  me  into  the  library  and 
then  she  said:  'Oh,  John,  this  is  the  answer  to 
all  of  my  prayers.  For  three  years  I  have 
prayed  that  God  would  bring  you  back  to 
health,  and  now  you  are  well.  Let  us  thank 
Him  for  His  kindness.' 

"We  knelt  there  side  by  side  with  her  hand 
in  mine  and  offered  our  gratitude  to  the  good 
Lord  for  walking  with  us  through  the  Valley  of 
Dark  Shadows  and  bringing  us  home. 

"When  we  arose  we  looked  at  each  other 
with  smiles  and  for  the  first  time  I  saw  the 
lines  of  care  in  her  face  and  then  I  seemed  to 
see  her  as  she  was,  the  rarest  little  woman  in 
the  world,  with  more  courage  than  a  soldier. 


178         THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

The  past  came  before  me  and  I  knew  in  that 
moment  what  she  had  been  to  me  through  all 
the  years.  She  had  believed  in  me  when  no 
one  else  believed.  She  had  encouraged  me  when 
others  laughed.  She  had  gone  through  the 
days  of  poverty  without  a  murmur.  When  suc- 
cess came  it  changed  me,  but  it  did  not  change 
her.  Her  charms  multiplied  with  motherhood, 
and  when  the  crisis  came  she  held  to  God  and 
would  not  let  Him  go  until  He  had  answered 
her  prayers  and  had  showed  me  where  and  how 
to  find  my  health.  And  now  in  this  hour  when 
we  knew  that  her  prayers  had  been  answered, 
I  saw  what  it  had  cost  her.  I  just  picked  her  up 
in  my  arms  and  sat  down  in  the  big  chair  by  the 
window  and  told  her  again  as  I  had  never  told 
her  before  how  much  I  loved  her.  And  when 
I  had  told  her  all  that  a  heart  full  of  love  can 
tell,  I  held  her  tight  and  whispered  in  her  ear: 
'Blessed  is  the  man  whose  wife  has  loved  him 
in  the  days  of  disaster.' 

"I  promised  her  there  that  pride  and  ambi- 
tion should  no  longer  control  my  life,  but  that 
all  my  work  and  play  should  be  for  her  and  her 
happiness. 

"She  turned  her  face  up  to  mine.  Her  eyes 
were  swimming  in  tears.  I  kissed  her,  but  that 
was  not  what  she  wanted.  She  snuggled  close 
to  my  ear  and  whispered:  'John,  you  are  lovely 


THE  DOCTOR'S  FIGHT  179 

to  me  and  I  love  you  more  than  you  will  ever 
know,  but  from  this  day  we  must  live  for  the 
Lord  Jesus  and  to  help  people  as  He  would 
have  us  help  them.  He  has  walked  with  me  all 
these  sad  days,  and  it  is  He  who  has  brought  us 
the  blessing.' 

"We  had  the  madman  chained  at  last." 

The  doctor  stopped  a  moment.  No  one  spoke, 
and  then  he  continued:  "Gentlemen,  these  are 
the  tragedies  the  doctors  see — the  world  at  war 
with  sickness  and  disease." 

He  said  no  more. 

We  sat  looking  out  over  the  waters.  There 
was  no  comment,  and  one  by  one  we  separated 
for  the  night.  I  alone  sat  watching  the  glory  of 
the  heavens,  and  I  said:  "What  a  wonderful 
God  is  my  Father.  He  pitches  planets  into 
space  as  the  juggler  pitches  his  balls,  and  loses 
never  the  least  of  them.  Will  He  not  also 
hold  man  in  the  hollow  of  His  hand?" 


THE  HUNTERS 


THE  HUNTERS 

MY  DEAR  MARGARET:  Since  I  wrote  you  a 
month  ago  about  Father's  death  I  have  been 
thinking  of  you  many  times  a  day;  and  now,  as 
I  look  back  over  our  lives  to  childhood,  I  see 
what  you  have  been  to  me  and  I  understand 
what  an  influence  you  have  had,  although  you 
are  younger  than  I. 

The  letter  I  wrote  you  contained  only  the 
story  of  Father's  sickness  and  death.  He 
wanted  me  with  him  every  hour,  and  we  talked 
much  of  you.  I  told  you  what  courage  he  had 
when  he  knew  he  could  not  recover.  He  never 
complained.  His  faith  was  calm  and  strong  to 
the  last.  There  was  only  one  thing  he  hoped 
for:  he  hoped  that  in  some  way  the  guides 
would  find  you  on  your  summer  tramp  and 
bring  you  back.  He  did  hunger  to  see  you  and 
kiss  you  good-by  and  to  know  that  you  were 
close  to  him,  and  he  had  a  message  from  his 
strong  heart  to  yours.  He  loved  you,  I  think, 
more  than  he  loved  any  of  us.  You  always 
understood  him  and  had  such  wonderful  ways 
of  soothing  him  when  he  was  overworked  and 
of  comforting  him  when  he  was  burdened  with 
cares.  I  can  remember  now  how  his  face 

183 


184        THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

lighted  when  you  talked  to  him,  and  many 
times  his  eyes  shone  with  a  film  of  tears  when 
you  impulsively  threw  your  arms  around  his 
neck  and  kissed  him.  You  were  the  child  of 
his  heart,  but  I  never  knew  what  that  meant 
until  in  those  last  days  when  he  and  I  were 
alone,  for  Mother  was  very  weak  and  the 
doctor  would  not  let  her  know  of  his  serious 
condition  until  the  last.  During  those  days  he 
pondered  the  things  he  wanted  to  tell  you;  and 
when  he  felt  quite  sure  that  you  would  not  be 
found  in  time  he  took  my  hand  in  his  and 
looked  into  my  eyes  a  long  while  and  said: 
"Donald,  I  am  not  going  to  be  with  you  very 
long,  and  while  I  can  think  clearly  I  want  to 
talk  with  you.  You  have  been  a  good  boy, 
and  before  I  go  I  want  you  to  know  how  much 
I  have  loved  you  since  you  were  a  mischievous 
baby!" 

I  could  have  thrown  myself  upon  him  and 
wept  and  begged  his  forgiveness  for  all  the 
thoughtless  things  I  have  done  and  for  all 
the  worry  and  anxiety  I  have  caused  him,  but 
instead  I  sat  there  numb  and  dumb,  the  tears 
running  down  my  face  and  my  heart  bleeding 
within  me.  Then  he  told  me  how  necessary  it 
is  for  a  man  to  hold  to  a  few  things  in  life. 
He  told  me  how  necessary  it  is  for  a  man  to  be 
so  truthful  that  no  man  can  doubt  him. 


THE  HUNTERS  185 

And  that  pure  honesty  is  the  foundation  of 
courage. 

And  then  chivalry  toward  women! 

His  mind  seemed  as  clear  as  the  morning, 
with  not  a  business  care  to  cloud  it,  and  from 
the  general  talk  he  threw  out  these  epigrams 
which  will  cling  to  me  until  I  too  shall  become 
sleepy  for  the  last  long  sleep: 

"Truth  is  man's  strength  in  the  day  of 
trouble." 

"He  who  has  dealt  honestly  has  nothing  to 
fear." 

"Chivalry  is  the  good  brother — and  every 
woman  is  his  sister." 

Then  he  told  me  the  details  of  his  affairs  and 
gave  me  some  advice  concerning  them.  He 
seemed  a  little  tired.  He  rested  for  many 
minutes,  then  he  said:  "Donald,  there  is  one 
thing  more:  there  is  Margaret.  What  a 
daughter  she  has  been  to  your  mother  and  to 
me  and  what  a  sister  to  all  of  you!  She  is 
only  a  girl  yet,  but  God  has  blessed  her  abun- 
dantly. What  a  woman  she  will  be  when  she 
comes  to  maturity — charm  of  person,  gifts  of 
mind,  and  beauty;  eyes  and  hair  and  color,  with 
laughter  sweeter  than  the  music  of  birds  singing 
at  dawn.  She  is  ours,  but  she  is  a  woman — 
and  men  will  hunger  for  her.  Good  men  will 
love  her  and  long  for  her,  for  love's  sweet  sake 


186        THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

to  live  their  lives  for  her  and  to  die  for  her 
with  a  smile.  Evil  men  will  devour  her  with 
their  eyes  and  desire  her  for  a  day  of  lust,  and 
because  she  is  innocent  how  will  she  know  the 
song  of  love  which  leads  to  life  from  the  song  of 
lust  which  leads  to  death?  Donald,  my  boy,  I 
can  die  without  seeing  her  because  I  shall  carry 
her  image  in  my  soul  and  look  at  her  every  day 
in  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven,  but  I  cannot  die 
until  I  know  that  she  will  know  the  danger  of 
a  maid  with  a  man." 

He  rested  a  while. 

"I  shall  never  see  her  here,"  he  said. 

He  waited  again,  then  continued: 

"I  can  never  tell  her,  our  blessed  Margaret. 
You  must  do  it  for  me,  Donald,  when  I  am 
gone.  Think  it  all  out.  You  are  a  young  man. 
You  know  boys  and  men.  You  know  the 
temptations  and  dangers  which  waylay  inno- 
cence. Tell  her  all  frankly,  but  don't  frighten 
her  and  make  her,  in  fear,  hate  all  men.  She 
has  a  brave  heart,  and  if  you  can  find  the  way 
to  tell  her  she  will  understand.  Pray  over  it, 
Donald." 

Then  he  stopped  again  and  looked  at  me 
searchingly. 

"Are  you  sure  you  have  found  God,  son?"  he 
asked. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,  Father,"  I  said.    "There 


THE  HUNTERS  187 

are  so  many  doubts  and  mysteries.  I  can't 
seem  to  find  Him — for  sure." 

He  looked  again  at  me  for  a  long  time  and 
his  eyes  had  a  wonderful  smile,  as  if  lighted  by 
some  light  from  heaven,  then  he  said: 

"In  this  message  to  Margaret  we  shall  need 
God.  You  will  need  wisdom.  You  can't  pray 
with  much  faith  for  guidance  in  giving  my 
message  to  Margaret  if  you  don't  know  Him 
yourself,  Donald.  There  isn't  much  time  for 
us.  But  I  know  God.  He  has  been  my  friend 
for  forty  years,  and  I  know  Jesus,  His  Son,  in 
many  wonderful  ways — and  I  think  They  will 
help  me  to  help  you  in  my  last  hour." 

He  looked  at  me  again  with  that  heavenly 
smile. 

"We  will  trust  Him,"  he  said.  "There  is  a 
verse  in  the  Bible  which  you  have  heard  all  of 
your  life.  I  am  going  to  change  it  a  little  for 
you:  Tor  God  so  loved  the  world  that  he  gave 
his  only  Begotten  Son,  that  Donald  Darwin, 
believing  in  Him,  should  not  perish,  but  have 
Everlasting  Life.'  I  want  you  to  write  this 
out  on  a  card  and  keep  it  in  your  New  Testa- 
ment, and  every  morning  and  every  night  take 
it  out  and  read  it  and  pray  to  God  to  show  you 
how  to  accept  that  Great  Love  which  He  has 
offered  to  you. 

"And  remember  this,  Donald:  Day  after  to- 


188        THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

morrow,  when  you  are  all  at  the  cemetery  and 
they  are  letting  this  wornout  body  of  mine  into 
its  grave,  I  shall  not  be  there;  I  shall  be  going 
up  to  the  throne  of  God  to  ask  Him  to  help 
you  to  find  Him  and  this  love  which  He  sent  His 
Son  to  offer  to  you.  Pray  often.  Pray  and 
believe.  Make  Jesus  your  daily  companion,  and 
when  the  whole  world  seems  arrayed  against 
you  He  will  be  your  Wonderful  Friend.  He 
will  never  leave  you  nor  forsake  you,  and  when 
you  find  yourself  right  with  God,  then  talk  to 
Him  about  your  message  to  Margaret." 

Margaret,  can  you  see  the  scene  in  the  old 
front  bedroom  which  I  am  describing  to  you? 
I  could  stand  no  more,  and  I  threw  my  hands 
over  his  shoulders  and  buried  my  face  on  his 
breast  and  sobbed  my  heart  out.  He  said 
nothing  at  all  for  a  long  while.  He  just  em- 
braced me  and  held  me  as  close  as  his  tired 
arms  could  clasp,  and  when  my  grief  had  spent 
itself  a  little  he  began  to  soothe  me,  and  at  last 
these  words  got  through  my  grief:  "Some  day 
you  will  understand,  Donald,  that  death  is  the 
most  blessed  thing  a  Loving  God  has  kept  in 
store  for  His  children,  and  when  I  am  gone 
do  not  weep,  but  smile  with  a  glad  heart  and 
know  that  I  shall  be  waiting  for  every  one  of 
you,  for  'In  My  Father's  House  are  many 


THE  HUNTERS  189 

After  that  a  strange  peace  came  over  me,  and 
when  we  let  the  body  into  the  grave  there  was 
not  a  tear  in  my  eye,  for  I  said:  "Father  is  not 
here.  He  is  walking  up  to  the  Throne  of  God 
to  ask  the  Lord  God  Omnipotent  to  help  me  to 
accept  the  love  which  has  been  offered  to  me." 

That  was  a  month  ago,  Margaret,  and  every 
day  the  card  with  the  Courage  Verse  has  been 
taken  out  and  read  and  I  have  prayed  over  it. 
I  don't  know  when  the  change  came.  It  must 
have  been  during  the  first  days  of  the  reading, 
for  my  soul  found  peace  and  my  whole  being 
has  hungered  for  God,  and  I  have  not  mourned 
Father's  death.  Somehow  I  feel  the  rarest 
glow  of  happiness  over  it,  and  he  is  closer  to 
me  than  he  ever  was  when  living. 

This  peace  which  has  come  to  me  has  been  so 
wonderful  that  I  have  feared  it  might  not  be 
lasting,  and  I  have  let  the  days  go  by  so  that 
I  might  be  sure  before  I  should  write  you  all 
the  things  which  are  in  my  heart.  And  each 
day  I  have  prayed  for  wisdom,  that  hi  telling 
you  these  things  I  may  tell  them  to  bless  you 
as  Father  would  have,  if  he  had  been  here  to 
hold  you  in  his  arms  and  pillow  your  head  on  his 
shoulder  as  I  have  seen  him  do  a  hundred  times. 

Margaret,  what  a  strange  thing  is  life,  with 
its  simple  duties  which  we  perform  from  day  to 
day  in  supplying  food,  clothing,  and  shelter  for 


190        THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

our  comfort.  These  are  the  simple  acts.  About 
them  there  is  no  mystery.  Our  hunger  de- 
mands that  we  prepare  food;  our  discomfort 
requires  preparation  of  clothing  and  the  storms 
warn  us  to  provide  shelter.  But  there  are 
other  things  which  are  not  so  simple:  those 
visions  and  dreams  which  illumine  the  human 
mind  and  build  the  Beacon  Fires  of  the  world 
and  then  those  lesser  lights  which  are  neither 
sun  nor  moon,  but  which  beam  steadily  in  the 
mind  and  give  us  our  intelligence  and  sanity. 

Then  there  is  Love,  which  glows  like  a  fire  in 
the  grate  to  fill  all  the  house  with  comfort;  to 
soothe  the  suffering;  to  bring  consolation  to 
those  in  sorrow;  to  serve  the  weak  and  to  count 
sacrifice  as  the  greatest  joy;  or  that  other  rarer 
Love  which  sweeps  the  soul  like  a  conflagration 
and  finds  its  glory  in  giving,  giving,  giving,  for- 
ever giving  of  itself  to  bless  those  upon  whom 
it  falls,  as  the  sun  in  the  heavens  gives  itself  to 
all  the  earth  to  make  it  yield  the  blossoms  and 
the  harvest. 

And  then  that  other  mystery  which  we  call 
Passion,  so  closely  intermingled  with  love,  and 
which  holds  somewhere  within  its  mysterious 
powers  the  life-giving  secret  which  multiplies 
and  replenishes  the  earth  with  its  peoples  and 
scorns  the  ravages  and  devastation  of  death, 
until  the  children  of  men  cover  the  earth  as  the 


THE  HUNTERS  191 

waters  cover  the  sea.  Without  it  we  would  be 
man  and  woman,  but  through  it  man  becomes 
a  father  and  produces  after  his  kind — and 
woman!  God  alone  knows  what  comes  to 
woman  when  she  feels  the  child  of  her  love 
for  her  mate  swinging  in  the  hammock  be- 
neath her  heart.  For  her  there  is  no  sun  by 
day  nor  stars  by  night,  but  her  child  is  the 
Light  of  the  World.  For  it  she  goes  through 
the  Valley  of  Shadows.  For  it  she  suffers 
agonies  which  no  language  can  describe.  For 
it  she  lives  and  moves  and  has  her  being.  For 
it  she  lays  down  her  life  and  counts  it  her 
greatest  joy  if  the  need  calls,  for  she  has  be- 
come a  mother  and  God  has  crowned  her  with 
the  crown  of  the  Matchless  Queen  because  she 
has  brought  another  life  into  the  world.  And 
from  that  day  she  is  no  longer  a  woman.  She 
is  Mother,  and  wherever  she  abides,  in  the 
wilderness  or  on  the  throne,  is  the  shrine  where 
men  come  to  kneel  and  pay  their  tribute. 
The  hunted,  hiding  in  their  dark  lairs,  would 
die  for  her.  The  good  would  stain  their  hands 
in  blood  to  defend  her,  for  she  is  the  sacred 
priestess  of  the  world  who  feeds  the  altar  fires 
of  love  as  long  as  her  child  lives.  One  pauses 
to  inquire  which  is  the  greater  miracle,  the 
birth  of  the  babe  or  the  birth  of  motherhood 
when  the  babe  is  born.  These  things:  home, 


192        THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

children,  the  mother,  the  father,  glorify  love 
and  sanctify  passion. 

But  this  thing,  Passion,  when  loosed  and  un- 
restrained, becomes  a  monster.  When  it  breaks 
away  from  the  purposes  of  God  and  the  better 
instincts  of  men  it  is  a  beast,  more  ruthless 
than  any  beast  of  the  jungle.  It  comes  to 
youth  in  the  days  of  immaturity  when  self- 
control  and  ideals  have  not  been  developed. 
What  it  does  in  the  life  of  a  girl  I  do  not  know. 
But  in  the  boy  it  storms  the  very  citadel  of 
character  and  manhood.  It  surges  like  the 
tides  of  the  sea  and  no  one  escapes  it.  There 
is  no  time  in  his  whole  life  when  he  so  needs 
the  companionship  of  clean  men,  the  frank  en- 
couragement of  his  father  and  the  sweet  under- 
standing of  his  mother.  More  and  more 
parents  are  coming  to  see  it,  but  even  now 
this  glow  of  the  senses  which  fills  the  boy  in 
his  boyhood  is  ignored  or  forbidden  in  con- 
versation, and  he  fights  it  alone  or  is  drawn 
into  a  maelstrom  where  self-control  is  swept 
away  and  then  that  thing  which  was  meant  to 
bless  the  earth  becomes  the  destroying  mon- 
ster, which  fathers  and  mothers  who  have 
daughters  fear  more  than  they  fear  disease,  or 
accidents,  or  pestilence,  or  death.  Its  prey  is 
innocence  and  beauty.  Girls  and  women  are 
fed  to  it,  yet  its  appetite  is  never  sated. 


THE  HUNTERS  193 

There  are  many  men  whose  reverence  for 
woman  or  whose  faith  in  God  gives  them 
strength  to  conquer,  but  there  are  many  who 
believe  that  women  are  fair  game  to  be  hunted. 
They  have  all  the  weapons  of  love  to  hunt 
with.  They  develop  skill  in  the  use  of  them, 
and  the  innocent,  hungry  for  love  as  women 
are,  often  fall  victims,  and  even  when  these 
Hunters  do  not  accomplish  their  purpose  they 
often  leave  wreckage  behind  them  in  young 
women  whose  loves  have  been  shattered  and 
whose  confidence  in  the  decency  of  men  is 
destroyed. 

Sister,  will  you  understand  me  when  you  read 
these  lines,  or  will  you  resent  my  frankness  and 
charge  me  with  a  loss  of  confidence  in  you?  It 
is  not  a  lack  of  confidence  in  you,  but  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  Hunters  and  the  prey  they  pursue. 

Yours  is  a  nature  which  drinks  so  deeply  of 
life  that  I  know  you  will  drink  deeply  of  Love, 
and  my  prayer  is  that  you  may  find  the  spring 
which  sends  forth  the  Waters  of  Joy,  for  there 
are  such  springs  in  the  Garden  of  Love,  where 
the  world  is  shut  out  and  Love  is  shut  in. 

We  get  into  the  habit  of  thinking  that  only 
girls  of  coarse  natures  are  tempted  and  only 
men  of  the  low  breed  are  dangerous.  But  we 
men  know  that  the  Hunters  pick  their  prey 
from  every  class. 


194         THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

A  few  months  ago  a  man  famous  on  two  con- 
tinents passed  through  our  town.  My  employer 
has  known  him  from  boyhood.  He  met  him  at 
the  train.  They  talked  as  boys  talk  when  each 
knows  the  heart  of  the  other.  This  man  of 
fame,  whose  voice  has  thundered  around  the 
world,  was  fleeing  with  his  daughter.  She  had 
become  infatuated  with  the  degenerate  son  of 
an  old  family.  He  had  a  strange  influence  upon 
her,  and  when  in  the  same  city  with  him  she 
seemed  to  lose  control  of  her  better  self.  She 
begged  her  father  to  take  her  away.  They  were 
gone  for  three  months.  When  they  returned  the 
Hunter  was  waiting  for  her.  She  was  appalled 
at  the  influence  he  still  had  upon  her.  She  went 
to  her  father  and  said:  "Father,  if  he  ever  asks 
me  to  marry  him  again  I'm  going  to  consent.  I 
don't  think  he  wants  me  for  a  wife,  but  there 
will  be  less  disgrace  for  me  to  marry  than  to  ruin 
your  influence  in  the  world  the  other  way.'* 

When  she  had  gone  to  her  room  the  Great 
Man  locked  his  door,  and  talked  to  God  about 
it.  All  afternoon  he  struggled,  and  as  the 
gloom  began  to  gather  he  looked  into  the  face 
of  his  Master  and  said:  "Thou  gavest  me  a 
daughter.  She  is  mine  and  I  will  protect  my 
own." 

He  went  to  his  closet  and  took  down  a  six- 
shooter  and  cleaned  and  loaded  it,  then  went 


THE  HUNTERS  195 

out  into  the  night.  The  wind  blew  and  the 
snow  beat  upon  him,  but  he  knew  of  no  storm 
but  the  storm  within  his  heart.  He  went  to 
the  house  of  the  Hunter  and  was  admitted, 
and  when  the  two  men  were  alone  the  Great 
Man  said  to  the  Hunter,  "What  is  your  inten- 
tion toward  my  daughter?" 

The  Hunter  smiled  and  replied,  "We  haven't 
got  far  enough  yet  to  discuss  that." 

The  Great  Man  quietly  pulled  the  revolver 
from  his  pocket  and  said:  "Your  attitude  is 
what  I  had  expected.  You  will  sign  this 
statement  now  or  I  will  kill  you  where  you 
stand." 

The  smile  faded  from  the  Hunter's  face.  He 
glanced  at  the  weapon,  then  looked  into  the 
burning  eyes,  and  signed  the  paper. 

"Listen,"  said  the  Great  Man:  "If  you  ever 
write  a  note  to  my  daughter  or  stop  to  speak 
to  her  on  the  street  I'll  hunt  you  down  as  I 
would  a  mad  dog  among  children." 

He  saved  his  daughter. 

The  philosophy  of  the  Hunter  is:  Take  all 
that  is  granted  from  women,  and  the  more 
there  is  given  the  more  despised  is  the  giver. 

A  beautiful  woman  once  told  me  her  story  in 
a  strange  way  and  a  strange  place.  I  had 
been  in  the  city  only  a  few  weeks  when  one  of 
the  managers  said  to  me:  "There  is  going  to  be 


196        THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

a  boxing  match  at  the  theatre  tonight;  would 
you  like  to  go?  I  have  a  box." 

I  accepted  his  invitation.  It  was  new  to  me. 
During  the  vaudeville  beer  was  being  passed 
among  the  audience.  About  ten-thirty  the  box- 
ing was  called.  The  boxers  had  hardly  come  on 
the  stage  when  four  stylishly  dressed  and  beau- 
tiful women  came  into  the  box  we  occupied  and 
paired  off  with  us.  One  of  the  men  ordered 
beer.  All  of  them  took  it.  I  was  embarrassed. 
I  had  never  been  in  such  company.  The  girl 
who  sat  next  to  me  lifted  her  glass  and  looked 
at  me  over  its  rim,  then  she  lowered  it. 

"Why  do  you  look  at  me  like  that?"  she 
asked. 

Margaret,  I  don't  know  how  I  had  looked, 
but  I  replied,  "Because  you  ought  not  to  be  in 
a  place  like  this." 

"It  is  here  or  the  grave  for  me,"  she  said. 

Then  she  told  me  how  a  man  of  fashion  had 
come  to  her  town.  He  had  courted  her  and  had 
promised  to  marry  her.  Her  parents  objected 
until  she  was  older.  She  eloped  with  him.  He 
refused  to  make  her  his  wife,  and  deserted  her. 

I  said:  "Write  to  your  father  that  you  are 
going  home.  He  will  take  you  back." 

"I  wrote  him,"  she  said.  "He  replied  that  I 
was  mistaken,  that  he  had  no  daughter  of  my 
name." 


THE  HUNTERS  197 

"Oh!  oh!"  she  exclaimed  under  her  breath. 
"I  did  it  all  for  love.  I  thought  he  loved  me! 
I  would  have  died  for  him.  What  nectar  for 
some  and  poison  for  others  is  in  the  draught  of 
Love!" 

"Can't  anything  be  done?"  I  asked.  "No, 
there  is  nothing,"  she  said.  "It  is  this  life  for 
a  while  and  then  the  grave.  I  shall  sleep  well 
because  I  shall  be  very  weary." 

There  was  nothing  I  could  say.  I  got  up 
and  went  out.  But  there  is  a  sequel:  I  met 
her  on  the  street  last  week.  I  think  she  knew 
me,  but  she  was  going  to  pass  without  speaking. 
I  stopped  her.  "Have  you  any  hope  yet?"  I 
asked. 

"No,  there  is  no  hope,"  she  replied.  "A 
little  longer  and  then  the  long  sleep." 

"There  is  another  way.  There  is  God,"  I 
said.  She  looked  at  me  with  level  eyes.  "Yes, 
there  is  God,"  she  said.  "He  forgives.  But 
while  she  is  on  the  earth  what  can  He  do  to 
wash  away  the  stains  of  a  stained  woman?" 

I  am  not  thinking  so  much  of  you,  Margaret, 
when  I  tell  this  story  as  I  am  of  all  the  sisters  of 
men.  Can't  there  be  a  new  Golden  Rule  for 
men  to  remember,  to  run  something  like  this: 
"Do  unto  other  men's  sisters  as  ye  would  that 
other  men  should  do  unto  yours"?  It  would  be 
the  Golden  Shield  for  girls,  would  it  not? 


198        THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

A  while  ago  I  asked  a  young  woman  how 
women  know  when  the  love  which  is  offered  is 
true  love. 

"Oh,  their  hearts  tell  them!"  she  replied. 

But  there  is  a  better  way  to  learn.  Where 
any  man  would  make  advances  which  would: 

Mar  the  modesty, 

Coarsen  the  character, 

Or  challenge  the  chastity 

of  any  woman,  she  may  know  that  his  heart  is 
as  black  as  his  words  are  fair. 

But  when  her  lover  comes,  if  she  can  look  into 
his  eyes  and  see  that  while  his  body  glows,  his 
soul  glows  stronger;  that  he  would  suffer  that 
she  might  avoid  suffering;  that  he  would  go 
through  flames  that  she  might  escape  them; 
that  he  would  die  himself  or  slay  others  to 
hold  her  name  stainless;  then,  if  she  loves  him, 
what  happiness  is  theirs  as  they  go  hand  in 
hand  to  drink  of  the  Fountain  of  Pure  Joy,  for 
she  is  his,  and  he  is  hers,  and  she  can  trust  him 
with  herself  and  with  all  women,  forever  and 
forever! 

Margaret,  will  you  understand  when  you  read 
my  message?  I  have  written  because  I  love 
you.  Father  would  have  done  it  better.  He 
would  have  made  you  understand  with  such 
simplicity  that  there  would  have  been  no  blush. 
At  first  after  he  was  gone  it  seemed  to  me  I 


THE  HUNTERS  199 

could  not  write  you  of  these  things;  then,  be- 
cause I  love  you,  I  wanted  you  to  have  the 
warning,  and  there  is  a  little  secret:  each  day 
when  I  prayed  to  God  to  show  me  how  to 
accept  the  great  love  He  had  offered  me,  I 
asked  him  to  help  you  to  find  the  love  of  some 
great  soul  who  will  love  you  to  madness,  in 
return  for  the  great  gifts  you  will  give  to  him. 
And  as  God  has  answered  my  prayer  and  has 
blessed  me  and  become  my  Friend,  so  He  will 
bless  you  also  when  the  great  soul  comes  and 
looks  into  your  eyes.  You  will  know  him  and 
will  put  your  hand  in  his  and  he  will  lead  you 
away,  for  you  are  his  and  he  is  yours,  and  he 
will  take  you  home  where  great  trees  will  cast 
their  shadows  at  the  gate  and  sweet-scented 
flowers  will  climb  above  the  door,  and  you  will 
find  Life  and  find  it  more  abundantly.  And 
there  you  and  your  great  soul  will  dwell  to- 
gether, and  the  Love  which  is  divine  and  the 
Passion  which  is  human  will  melt  into  one,  and 
some  day  you  will  hear  a  new  song,  and  you 
will  listen  and  wait  and  listen  and  you  will  say, 
"It  sounds  like  the  song  of  angels,"  but  it  is  the 
child  tuning  your  soul  to  motherhood.  And 
then,  Margaret,  you  will  go  out  into  that  dark 
strange  country  where  women  go  alone,  that 
the  child  may  live,  and  when  you  come  back 
and  open  your  eyes  and  see  the  child  asleep  on 


200         THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

your  breast  you  will  say  "my  baby,"  and  you 
will  look  up  and  see  the  great  soul,  its  father. 
A  wonderful  glow  of  love  for  him  will  surge 
through  you  and  you  will  know  what  Home  is. 
And  in  those  days  I  want  to  see  you  when  God 
has  come  to  you,  and  has  laid  His  hand  upon 
you  and  blessed  you  with  motherhood. 

And  what  a  mother  you  will  be,  Margaret, 
when  this  new  life  comes  to  fill  your  home  with 
joy!  Oh,  but  there  will  be  other  things  too: 
There  will  be  anxiety  and  faith  and  fear  and 
courage;  and  horror  and  hope;  and  health  and 
sickness;  and  laughter  and  tears,  and  after  a 
while  death.  But  there  will  be  love,  Margaret, 
great  love,  and  love  never  faileth,  and  you  will 
love  to  the  end  because  you  are  a  mother.  And, 
Margaret,  if  the  great  soul  has  not  found  God, 
take  the  sacred  verse  and  write  his  name 
therein,  and  have  him  kneel  with  you,  and 
pray  that  he  may  find 'the  Great  Love  which 
God  sent  His  Son  to  bring  to  him.  And  when 
that  time  comes  Father  will  know,  and  will  go 
again  to  the  Throne  of  God  and  ask  God  to 
help  you  as  he  asked  Him  to  help  me. 

Margaret,  this  is  the  message  which  Father 
has  sent  from  his  great  heart  to  yours,  but  how 
shall  we  warn  the  sisters  of  men  to  thwart  the 
Hunters,  the  Hunters,  the  Hunters  who  ravage 
the  folds  of  innocence? 


THE  GARDENS  OF  HEAVEN 


THE  GARDENS  OF  HEAVEN 

MY  grandfather  was  a  hard-headed  Eng- 
lishman, who  through  industry  and 
thrift  had  saved  a  few  thousand  dollars  and  he 
knew  how  to  keep  them,  too.  We  used  to  call 
him  wealthy  in  our  unpretentious  circle,  and 
the  greatest  mystery  we  knew  of  as  boys  was 
the  mystery  of  how  he  had  made  his  money. 
Well,  one  day  he  told  us  without  knowing  that 
he  had  told  us,  and  I  heard  what  he  said  and 
never  knew  it  was  the  secret  which  we  boys 
coveted  above  all  things. 

He  was  hitching  up  his  old  dappled  gray 
horse,  Major,  when  we  gathered  around  to 
learn  where  he  was  going. 

"I  am  going  to  gather  some  wild  blackberries 
for  your  mother,"  he  told  us. 

We  begged  to  go  with  him,  for  that  meant  a 
ride  in  his  spring  wagon  with  maybe  an  oppor- 
tunity to  drive  Major  a  little  of  the  way,  and  a 
scramble  through  the  woods,  and  a  swing  on  the 
grape-vine  swing  which  hung  out  over  the  creek, 
and  a  swim,  and  maybe  a  chance  to  slide  stark 
naked  down  the  slippery  bank  and  splash  into 
the  "deepest  hole"  among  the  minnows  and 
catfish.  And  then  there  always  was  the  chance 

203 


204        THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

that  we  might  "kick  out"  a  cotton  tail  or  a 
'possum  or  hedge-hog  or  a  pole-cat,  only  that 
was  not  what  we  called  him. 

At  first  grandfather  would  not  listen  to  our 
appeals,  but  hanging  to  his  trousers  and  cling- 
ing to  the  straps  of  the  harness  we  persuaded 
him  to  consent  on  this  condition:  "I  am  going 
to  take  you  boys  along  if  you  will  promise  to 
pick  berries  for  an  hour  and  each  one  of  you 
must  promise  to  stay  with  your  own  bush." 

Of  course  we  promised.  We  would  have 
promised  anything.  We  scrambled  into  the 
wagon  and  were  gone. 

When  we  arrived  at  the  patch,  grandfather 
selected  bushes  for  each  and  we  kept  our 
promise  as  long  as  the  berries  tasted  good,  and 
then  we  began  to  ramble  from  bush  to  bush. 
Not  one  of  us  stayed  with  his  own  bush  ex- 
cepting Margaret,  who  was  one  of  the  boys  in 
those  days. 

At  the  end  of  an  hour  we  heard  grandfather's 
"Halloo"  and  came  back  to  the  wagon  where 
we  found  that  Margaret  had  filled  her  pail 
from  the  bushes  assigned  to  her.  She  had  as 
many  berries  as  all  the  rest  of  us  combined  and 
then  it  was  that  grandfather  gave  us  this  bit  of 
wisdom : 

"Now  look  at  what  Margaret  has  done.  She 
stayed  with  her  own  bush  and  has  got  more 


THE  GARDENS  OF  HEAVEN         205 

berries  than  the  five  of  you  boys  and  she  is 
only  a  girl  and  wears  dresses.  I  wonder,  will 
you  ever  learn  this  bit  of  sense:  It's  the  mother 
robin  that  stays  at  home  that  raises  the  baby 
robins;  it's  the  farmer  who  stays  in  his  own 
fields  that  fills  his  cribs  and  bins;  it's  the  boy 
who  stays  with  his  own  bush  who  gets  the 
berries."  And  then  he  unconsciously  dropped 
into  the  brogue  of  his  own  country:  "Thoo  ud 
better  remember  this  the  longest  day  of  thoo  lives 
or  thoo  ul  be  sorry;  that  if  thoo  ud  eat  beefsteak 
and  brown  gravy  i' stead  o*  fat  pork  and  grease 
when  thoo  is  as  aud  as  I  be,  thoo  id  learn  to  stay 
with  thoo  own  bush" 

And  this  after  all  is  the  profoundest  philos- 
ophy of  business,  and  it  is  by  this  method 
that  men  through  the  years  of  thrift  and 
prudence  make  sufficient  money  for  their  liv- 
ing and  buy  their  homes  and  maybe  a  few 
farms,  or  lay  then:  savings  away  in  banks  or 
in  good  mortgages  and  bonds.  These  are  the 
men  who  know  where  every  dollar  has  been 
made,  how  hard  it  has  been  to  get  each  one 
and  how  long  it  has  taken  to  accumulate  what 
they  have  saved.  Often  when  the  money  has 
been  made  they  feel  that  they  would  like  to 
have  it  bring  them  some  pleasure,  but  they 
cannot  explore  the  fashionable  pleasure  grounds 
and  yet  "stay  with  their  own  bush,"  and  they 


206        THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

do  not  want  fashion  anyway.  They  want  a 
simple,  wholesome  pleasure  which  will  warm 
their  lives  like  the  Old  Swimming  Pool  of  boy- 
hood, or  the  spring  which  bubbled  up  through 
the  sands  in  the  shade  of  the  spreading  walnut 
tree.  They  know  that  if  they  could  find  some- 
thing like  that  they  would  never  grow  old,  but 
no  one  has  shown  them  how  to  secure  pleasures 
except  through  the  most  foolish  and  extravagant 
waste  of  money  which  it  has  taken  years  to 
accumulate,  and  when  they  have  tasted  of  the 
pleasures  offered  they  prove  not  to  be  pleasant 
to  the  taste.  Only  here  and  there  some  man 
will  find  the  secret  by  accident,  and  yet  there 
are  ten  thousand  men  in  America  who  would 
give  much  to  feel  again  the  delight  of  the  Old 
Swimming  Pool,  hi  the  days  when  they  have 
made  their  competence,  whether  they  are  still 
young  or  in  middle  life  or  in  old  age — and  so  I 
am  going  to  tell  you  how  some  friends  of  mine 
found  such  happiness. 

I  had  gone  out  to  my  friend's  home  to  rest, 
for  I  was  tired  from  months  of  constant  toil. 
His  house  was  simple  and  unpretentious.  His 
furniture  was  not  modern,  but  was  heavy  and 
substantial,  and  the  chairs  were  made  to  fit  the 
body.  The  table  was  delicious,  and  Mrs.  Cot- 
ton was  a  mother  to  everybody  who  came  under 
her  roof. 


THE  GARDENS  OF  HEAVEN         207 

They  were  just  in  middle  life  and  had  had 
two  children,  both  girls.  One  of  them  was 
married,  and  the  other  one  had  died  at  twenty. 
No  one  knew  just  what  Dan  was  worth,  but  as 
we  drove  around  the  country  we  would  stop 
here  and  there  where  he  would  talk  with  men 
who  were  his  renters  and  I  noticed  that  each 
farm  was  a  choice  piece  of  land,  and  as  the  old 
intimacy  came  back  he  told  me  many  things 
about  his  business  and  investments.  He  was  a 
very  busy  man,  but  tried  always  to  be  at  home 
by  four  o'clock.  He  seemed  to  have  no  pleasure 
but  his  business  and  a  summer  trip  to  the 
Northern  Lakes  in  August.  One  evening  we 
sat  on  the  porch  looking  out  over  his  beautiful 
lawn  toward  the  town,  and  it  seemed  to  me 
then  that  he  had  everything  that  a  man  could 
wish  for  and  I  said:  "Dan,  you  have  been  im- 
mensely successful." 

"You  mean  in  money,  I  suppose,"  he  replied. 
"Yes,  I  have  made  money,  but  after  a  man 
has  enough  to  insure  him  against  want,  what 
does  it  amount  to,  unless  he  wants  to  go  through 
the  world  and  spend  money  like  a  gambler  and 
get  about  the  same  results?  That  doesn't  appeal 
to  Alice  or  me." 

"And  yet  it  is  money  that  swings  the  world," 
I  said. 

**No,  it  is  not  money  which  swings  the  world. 


208         THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

It  is  money  that  supplies  bread  and  butter  and 
clothing  and  shelter.  There  the  usefulness  of 
money  stops.  No  man  gets  any  more  than  that 
out  of  his  money." 

"That  is  a  large  part  of  life,  though,"  I  replied. 

"No,  that  is  just  subsistence,  it  isn't  life.  It 
is  only  the  material  protection  out  of  which  life 
may  develop.  Life,  that  thing  which  steadies 
the  world  and  lifts  it,  is  made  up  of  love  and 
ideas.  Money  and  commerce  and  business 
merely  furnish  the  boarding  house  for  life. 
Who  ever  heard  of  an  immortal  idea  which  has 
even  the  odor  of  money  about  it?  Who  ever 
heard  of  a  divine,  unselfish  passion  of  conse- 
crated love  for  the  happiness  of  mankind  that 
received  its  inspiration  from  business  and  com- 
merce? Business  is  ruthless  and  no  one  knows 
it  so  well  as  the  business  man  himself. 

"No,"  he  said,  "I  have  never  had  a  great 
idea  in  my  life — not  one  that  will  be  remem- 
bered for  the  good  of  the  race  twenty-four  hours 
after  they  smooth  the  mound  of  my  grave." 

He  waited  awhile  and  said  nothing.  We  lis- 
tened to  the  strains  of  the  piano  just  within  the 
window. 

"I  have  had  a  taste  of  love  though,"  he  said, 
nodding  toward  the  window.  "It  is  the  most 
wonderful  thing  in  the  world.  That  was  my 
one  great  achievement,  when  I  won  Alice." 


THE  GARDENS  OF  HEAVEN         209 

He  waited  again  and  a  film  of  tears  shone  in 
his  eyes  and  his  voice  was  husky  when  he  con- 
tinued: 

"I  can't  think  what  the  glory  of  love  must  be, 
to  love  mankind  a  thousand  times  more  than  I 
love  Alice,  as  Jesus  loved  the  world.  I  should 
think  it  would  consume  a  man  body  and  soul 
and  prepare  him  for  the  mad-house." 

"It  might,"  I  replied,  "only  that  love  is  the 
source  of  sanity.  Love  is  the  sanest  thing  in  the 
world." 

"That  is  true  of  the  home.  It  is  the  subtlest, 
sweetest,  safest,  sanest,  divinest  thing  that  ever 
touched  the  life  of  man  and  woman,  and  a  man 
ought  not  to  complain  very  much  when  God 
has  given  him  that,  and  I  am  not  going  to  com- 
plain," he  said.  "But — but  I  would  like  just 
one  taste  of  something  big — if  Alice  could  share 
it  with  me — which  would  make  the  soul  glow 
with  the  tenderness  and  passion  which  the 
saviours  of  men  have  felt.  I  know  we  are  too 
old  now  to  get  very  much  of  it,  but  just  a  taste 
would  sweeten  up  all  the  rest  of  our  lives." 

"You  mean  that  you  would  like  to  help  some 
one  by  furnishing  the  strength  for  his  weak- 
ness, by  being  a  kind  of  saviour?"  I  asked. 

"Yes,"  he  said. 

"Sure  you  can,"  I  told  him.  "I  can  find  you 
a  hundred  who  need  you." 


210         THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

"I  suppose  you  mean  money  again,"  he  said. 
"That  is  no  good.  I  have  chances  of  that  kind 
every  day.  That  only  destroys  the  independ- 
ence of  those  you  help.  It  steals  away  their 
self-reliance  and  originality  and  initiative  and 
makes  them  helpless  in  body  and  paupers  in 
practice.  There  is  nothing  about  money  which 
can  buy  the  thing  I  am  thinking  of." 

"Yes,  there  is,"  I  replied.  "I  have  in  mind 
right  now  a  young  fellow  who  has  weak  lungs. 
He  is  not  incurable,  but  his  mother  has  no 
money  to  give  him  the  training  which  will  de- 
velop him.  He  needs  a  sleeping  porch  where  he 
can  sleep  out  of  doors,  and  he  ought  to  have 
training  under  a  physical  director.  The  doctor 
says  he  can  be  cured  in  that  way." 

We  talked  it  over  and  finally  Dan  said:  "All 
right,  my  friend,  get  what  he  needs  and  draw 
on  me,  and  some  time  I  should  like  to  see 
him." 

The  doctor's  prescription  did  the  business, 
and  within  a  year  his  outdoor  sleeping  and  his 
gymnasium  work  put  him  on  his  feet.  When  he 
began  to  grow  strong  he  got  back  to  work 
again  and  the  thing  he  was  most  anxious  to  do 
was  to  pay  the  money  to  the  good  people  who 
had  saved  his  life.  I  told  him  that  I  had 
not  advanced  it  and  that  my  friend  would  not 
allow  his  name  to  be  used,  but  at  the  end  of 


THE  GARDENS  OF  HEAVEN         211 

the  year  during  vacation  I  took  him  out  to  the 
Cotton  house. 

He  was  a  boy  to  admire,  and  when  they  knew 
him,  Dan  and  Alice  were  as  proud  of  him  as  if 
he  had  been  their  own  son.  He  told  them  he 
had  brought  the  money  to  pay  them  with  in- 
terest. They  scoffed  at  the  idea,  but  he  counted 
out  the  money  for  the  principal  and  then  the 
interest. 

"Why,"  he  said,  "I  couldn't  use  your  money. 
It  has  saved  my  life  and  my  mother's  happi- 
ness. It  was  a  messenger  straight  from  God  in 
answer  to  prayer.  My  mother  had  prayed  for 
three  months  that  there  might  be  some  way  by 
which  the  doctor's  advice  could  be  complied 
with  and  then  our  friend  walked  into  our  house 
with  the  money.  Now  I  am  sound  as  a  nut 
and  by  taking  care  of  myself  shall  be  able  to 
live  a  long  life  and  do  a  man's  work.  And 
it  did  more  than  that,"  he  said.  "I  had  be- 
come despondent,  didn't  have  any  faith  in  my 
mother's  prayers  and  had  stopped  praying  my- 
self. I  was  just  waiting  for  disease  to  weaken 
me  and  death  to  strike,  and  at  times  I  contem- 
plated helping  it  along.  I  had  become  a  cynic 
and  an  infidel  and  then  when  the  help  came 
and  I  began  to  get  my  strength  back,  I  felt  as 
if  God  had  come  to  me  in  the  cool  of  the  day 
and  had  put  His  arm  around  me,  and  that  He 


THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

had  made  His  face  to  shine  upon  me.  I  can 
remember  that  tender  feeling  which  came  to 
me  one  evening  when  I  was  returning  from 
church  and  I  saw  how  wonderful  were  the  ways 
and  the  works  of  the  Good  God.  I  saw  how  my 
life  had  been  filled  with  love  by  the  prayers  of 
my  mother  and  the  money  which  God  told  you 
to  send  us.  He  seemed  to  be  walking  with  me 
holding  my  hand  in  His  and  filling  all  my  being 
with  His  Glory,  and  I  looked  up  at  the  stars 
and  beyond  them  and  repeated: 

"  'The  Lord  is  my  Shepherd;  I  shall  not 
want. 

He  maketh  me  to  lie  down  in  green  pastures: 
He  leadeth  me  beside  the  still  waters. 

He  restoreth  my  soul:  He  leadeth  me  in  the 
paths  of  righteousness  for  his  name's  sake. 

Yea,  though  I  walk  through  the  valley  of  the 
shadow  of  death,  I  will  fear  no  evil;  for 
Thou  art  with  me;  Thy  rod  and  Thy  staff 
they  comfort  me. 

Thou  preparest  a  table  before  me  in  the  pres- 
ence of  mine  enemies;  Thou  anointest  my 
head  with  oil;  my  cup  runneth  over. 

Surely  goodness  and  mercy  shall  follow  me  all 
the  days  of  my  life:  and  I  will  dwell  in  the 
house  of  the  Lord  forever.' 

"Then  His  love  flowed  over  me  and  covered 
me  as  the  waters  cover  the  sea,  and  I  seemed  to 
look  into  His  eyes,  and  I  said:  'And  now,  Oh 


THE  GARDENS  OF  HEAVEN         213 

God,  I  will  follow  You  all  the  days  of  my  life 
and  I  shall  be  your  son  and  You  will  be  my 
Father.'  " 

After  awhile  the  young  man  left  to  catch  his 
train,  and  such  a  farewell  I  have  never  seen. 
He  came  forward  to  shake  hands  with  Mrs. 
Cotton;  she  did  not  take  his  hand,  but  just 
went  up  to  him  and  hugged  him  and  kissed  him 
on  the  lips.  Dan  and  I  followed  him  to  the 
gate  and  bade  him  good-by. 

When  we  returned,  Mrs.  Cotton  was  waiting 
for  us  and  as  soon  as  we  were  within  the  doors 
she  cried  like  a  child.  She  hid  her  face  on  her 
husband's  shoulder  and  sobbed:  "Oh,  Dan,  I 
didn't  know  a  little  money  put  in  the  right 
place  could  give  such  a  blessing  as  that,  and  I 
didn't  know  that  it  could  buy  such  joy  as  it 
has  brought  to  us.  Why,  why,  it  is  as  sweet  as 
the  Gardens  of  Heaven." 

When  she  had  gone  out,  Dan  gripped  my 
hand  in  his  and  said:  "It  fills  one's  soul  with  a 
wonderful  joy.  Can't  we  do  it  again  some- 
where? When  I  can  do  a  thing  like  that  I  shall 
feel  that  I  am  playing  jokes  on  the  devil." 

"Yes,"  I  said  to  him,  "you  can  do  it  again 
there.  The  boy  wants  to  study  for  the  min- 
istry and  means  to  work  his  way  through.  But 
don't  spoil  him,  Dan,  let  him  go  until  he  needs 
the  help.  There  will  be  others." 


214        THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

That  was  ten  years  ago  and  the  young  man 
is  telling  the  love  stories  of  the  Gospel. 

I  went  home  feeling  quite  happy.  My  little 
errand  as  the  middle-man  had  brought  happi- 
ness to  four  people.  I  could  not  tell  how  much 
more  it  promised  to  bring  in  the  future. 

A  few  weeks  later  I  had  a  letter  from  Dan. 
He  said:  "Come  out  and  spend  Sunday  with  us. 
We  want  to  talk  to  you.  Alice  is  getting  hun- 
gry for  another  excursion  in  'The  Gardens  of 
Heaven,'  as  she  calls  it."  And  so  I  went  out. 

They  didn't  say  a  thing  about  what  was  in 
their  minds  until  after  dinner,  when  Mrs.  Cotton 
said:  "I  am  going  to  take  a  nap  for  an  hour; 
I  wish  you  men  would,  too.  Dan  always  does 
when  we  are  alone,  and  then  we  can  talk  and 
feel  fresh  and  rested  and  bright  and  natural." 

Just  at  three  o'clock  we  came  out  on  the 
porch  and  Dan  said:  "Say,  Mac,  Alice  and  I 
have  had  so  much  pleasure  from  our  little  jour- 
ney into  the  Kingdom  of  Kindness  that  we 
should  like  to  arrange  for  another.  Do  you 
know  of  the  right  thing?" 

"And,  Mr.  Mac,"  Mrs.  Cotton  interrupted, 
"we  should  like,  not  only  to  help  people  to  be 
prosperous,  but  to  be  useful  in  such  a  natural 
way  that  they  will  be  happy  too." 

"I  think  I  know  the  family  you  could  help," 
I  said,  "but  they  are  very  sensitive.  An  offer 


"Looking  wistfully  at  a 
piece  of  low  pasture  land 
just  over  her  fence  " 


216        THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

of  charity  would  offend  them.  They  live  up 
the  road  here  about  twenty  miles.  The  mother 
is  a  widow.  She  has  five  boys  and  two  girls, 
and  each  boy  as  he  is  old  enough  goes  out  to 
work  among  the  farmers.  She  is  worried  be- 
cause the  boys  must  leave  home  so  young  and 
it  doesn't  seem  as  if  they  could  hope  for  even  a 
common  school  education.  When  I  was  there  a 
few  days  ago,  I  saw  her  looking  wistfully  at  a 
piece  of  low  pasture  land  just  over  her  fence. 

"There  is  a  lot  of  grass  going  to  waste  there," 
I  said.  "Why,"  she  replied,  "if  that  grass  were 
manufactured  into  milk  and  butter,  it  would 
keep  and  educate  my  family  and  my  boys 
would  be  at  home.  I  have  tried  to  get  the 
money  to  buy  the  cows,  but  I  haven't  any 
security." 

"Now,  Dan,  your  judgment  would  be  much 
better  than  mine.  She  is  a  fine  little  woman, 
and  is  worth  any  encouragement  we  could  give, 
but  we  shall  have  to  be  careful." 

I  didn't  want  to  make  my  case  too  strong;  I 
wanted  them  to  work  it  out  for  themselves. 

So  the  next  morning  we  took  his  car  and 
ran  up  to  look  the  situation  over  quietly.  On 
the  way  we  stopped  at  two  farms,  where  the 
widow's  boys  were  at  work.  They  were  too 
small  to  be  away  from  home  among  strangers; 
one  was  thirteen  and  the  other  was  fifteen. 


THE  GARDENS  OP  HEAVEN         217 

Dan  talked  with  the  farmers  about  the  boys 
and  their  habits.  He  seemed  to  be  satisfied 
with  the  reports.  He  wanted  to  look  at  the 
land  before  he  saw  the  mother.  We  drove 
around  it  and  then  went  into  the  field  and 
drove  over  it,  except  the  timbered  part.  Dan 
didn't  guess  at  that;  he  got  out  and  Mrs.  Cotton 
went  with  him.  They  walked  through  the  tim- 
ber until  they  knew  just  how  much  there  was 
and  how  it  lay.  They  drove  into  town  to  learn 
what  it  could  be  bought  for,  and  then  we  went 
out  to  see  the  little  woman  who  was  worrying 
about  her  boys.  She  knew  a  good  deal  about 
farming.  Her  father  had  been  a  farmer.  She 
had  taught  school  before  she  married.  I  told 
her  that  Dan  would  buy  the  land  if  he  could 
lease  it  for  a  while,  and  that  I  had  brought 
him  to  see  her.  At  first  her  face  brightened  and 
then  all  the  joy  went  out  of  it. 

"Oh,  but  I  couldn't  lease  it,  I  have  no  cows, 
and  it  is  only  pasture  land,"  she  said. 

"How  many  cows  would  it  pasture?"  Dan 
asked. 

"During  good  grass  years  it  would  furnish 
pasture  and  winter  hay  for  about  thirty,  but 
during  a  poor  year  for  not  more  than  twenty, 
and  of  course  one  would  not  dare  to  keep  more 
than  the  minimum." 

That  pleased  Dan,  and  he  talked  with  her 


218        THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

about  her  plans.  While  she  did  not  have 
specific  knowledge  about  everything,  she  had  a 
fine,  sane  mind.  He  didn't  like  to  make  her 
decide.  He  wanted  her  to  think  it  over  well. 
So  we  drove  away.  I  was  disappointed,  and  so 
was  Mrs.  Cotton.  She  had  fallen  in  love  with 
the  little  widow  at  sight  and  wanted  to  do 
anything  she  wanted.  We  went  back  by  way 
of  the  town,  and  Dan  took  an  option  on  the 
land  for  ten  days.  Meantime  he  and  Alice  saw 
her  again,  and  everything  was  arranged.  He 
bought  the  land.  She  leased  it  and  he  bought 
twenty  Durham  cows  for  her. 

And  wasn't  she  the  wise  little  woman! 

She  didn't  say,  "And  now  we  are  rich,  let  us 
eat,  drink,  and  be  wasteful."  She  didn't  bring 
the  boys  home  that  were  away.  She  let  them 
"work  their  time  out"  and  she  used  the  money 
they  made  to  build  stables  for  the  cows  and 
sheds  for  the  hay.  But  when  fall  came  they 
were  all  home  and  in  school,  and  every  morning 
at  four-thirty  the  light  shone  from  the  kitchen 
window.  The  mother  scalded  and  cooled  the 
pans  while  the  children  milked,  and  they  were 
taught  that  "stripping  the  cow  dry"  is  what 
makes  her  give  an  abundance  of  milk  and 
catches  the  richest  cream.  And  when  they  had 
finished  milking,  they  would  come  to  the  house 
with  milk  pails  filled  to  the  brim  and  heaped  up 


THE  GARDENS  OF  HEAVEN         219 

with  the  foam  piled  far  above  the  top  of  the 
pails  until  they  looked  like  pails  of  snow.  When 
the  milk  was  strained  and  the  pans  were  placed 
in  rows  on  the  cool  cellar  floor,  they  all  came  in 
to  breakfast. 

After  breakfast  the  mother  reached  up  to  the 
clock  shelf  and  took  down  the  Bible  and  read  a 
short  chapter.  And  then  they  all  kneeled  at 
their  chairs  while  she  prayed  in  her  simple  way 
that  the  good  God  would  give  her  wisdom  to  be 
a  father  and  mother  to  her  boys  and  girls  who 
had  no  father,  and  that  above  all  things  they 
might  believe  in  Him  and  trust  Him  and  grow 
to  be  such  men  and  women  as  to  honor  Him  in 
all  things.  And  with  tears  in  her  voice  she 
asked  God  to  bless  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Daniel  Cot- 
ton, who  had  helped  her  and  her  children  to 
help  themselves,  and  to  fill  their  lives  with  the 
joy  of  a  great  love  until  that  sad  day  when 
"one  shall  be  taken  and  the  other  left"  and  then 
to  bless  them  in  their  despair  even  more  than 
in  their  joy.  Then  she  went  on  with  this 
beautiful  petition:  "Oh,  Lord,  the  Father  of  all 
living  things,  remember  our  kind  dumb  friends, 
the  kindly  cows  of  the  pasture  that  pull  sweet 
grasses  in  the  fields  all  day  and  distil  their 
juices  into  milk  and  cream,  and  if  there  is  any 
way  to  make  them  understand,  teach  us  how 
to  tell  them  that  they  are  our  friends  and  that 


220         THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

we  love  them.  Give  us  knowledge  of  their 
natures  and  their  ways,  so  that  we  may  min- 
ister to  their  comfort  and  contentment,  that 
their  days  with  us  may  be  days  of  peace. 
Show  us  how  to  be  patient  and  kind  to  them 
as  they  are  patient  and  kind  to  us  in  their  sim- 
ple and  trustful  way.  Now,  Father,  keep  my 
heart  tender  with  a  great  love  and  fill  my  soul 
with  sunshine  to  warm  our  blessed  little  home, 
but  give  me  the  iron  will  that  cannot  be  broken 
until  my  task  is  finished." 

What  wonderful  Durham  cows  those  were! 
The  boys  and  girls  found  the  most  astonishing 
things  in  their  milk  pails.  They  found  not 
only  milk  and  cream  and  butter,  but  loaves  of 
bread  and  suits  of  clothes  and  shoes  and 
dresses  and  ribbons  and  stockings  and  hats  and 
gloves  and  winter  coats  and  overcoats  and 
table  cloths  and  dishes  and  silverware,  and  then 
they  found  school  books  and  diplomas  and 
whole  buckets  full  of  ambition  and  happiness 
and  honor.  And  they  found  another  thing  so 
large  and  heavy  that  you  won't  believe  it  ever 
came  from  a  milk  pail.  They  found  a  whole 
dairy  farm  in  it;  for  one  day,  after  milking  six 
years,  they  made  the  last  payment  on  the  grass 
land  and  owned  it.  The  cows  had  pulled 
enough  sweet  grass  with  their  tongues  and  had 
made  enough  milk  from  it  to  keep  the  family 


THE  GARDENS  OF  HEAVEN         221 

and  pay  for  themselves  and  pay  for  the  land 
which  grew  the  grass. 

Unless  you  have  been  very  poor  some  time, 
you  can  never  understand  what  an  achievement 
this  was  for  this  family.  They  decided  to  cele- 
brate the  event.  They  had  a  supper  and  in- 
vited Dan  and  Mrs.  Cotton.  The  table  was 
charming  with  fresh  linen  and  simple  china  and 
silverware,  and  the  food  was  delicious,  but  there 
was  something  else  at  that  table,  not  laid  for 
the  occasion,  which  made  everybody  laugh  with 
tears  in  their  eyes. 

When  Dan  and  Mrs.  Cotton  were  about  to 
leave,  Albert  opened  the  gate  and  let  all  the 
beautiful  cows  into  the  yard,  and  Mollie  Dur- 
ham, the  oldest  cow  in  the  herd  and  the  great 
milker  and  leader,  led  them  to  the  back  porch 
and  asked  for  salt,  and  the  little  mother  just 
threw  her  arms  around  Molly's  neck  and  cried. 

"Why,  you  dear  old  darling,"  she  said,  "you 
will  never  know  what  you  have  done  for  me  and 
my  children."  And  Mrs.  Cotton  is  sure  that 
Molly  understood  everything  that  was  said  to 
her,  although  Mrs.  Cotton  couldn't  see  very 
well  at  that  time  herself,  while  Dan  turned  away 
and  used  his  handkerchief. 

What  wonderful  milk  the  Durhams  gave! 
Dan  and  Mrs.  Cotton  drank  some  of  it,  too, 
and  it  changed  their  lives.  They  wanted  to 


222         THE  TRAIL  A  BOY  TRAVELS 

live  in  the  Gardens  of  Heaven  and  they  do 
most  of  the  time.  They  are  interested  in  every 
good  thing,  and  now  they  give  nearly  all  of  their 
income  to  spread  religion  and  build  churches 
and  hospitals  and  Associations  and  to  support 
workers  in  many  fields.  They  have  had  their 
taste  of  the  Big  Thing,  and  they  have  learned 
the  joy  of  Loving  the  World,  and  they  have 
found  that  money,  too,  has  its  mission  in 
molding  mankind. 

Now  if  by  chance  you  should  wish  to  learn 
this  joy  that  passes  understanding,  but  don't 
know  how,  I  think  that  I  can  tell  you.  Just 
drink  a  little  Durham  milk,  sweetened  with 
love — just  a  little  plain  Durham  milk  made 
from  the  sweet  grasses  of  the  pasture,  and  a 
little  plain  human  love  distilled  from  deeds  of 
mercy  and  you  shall  learn  of  the  wonderful 
flowers  that  bloom  in  the  Gardens  of  Heaven. 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

405  Hilgard  Avenue,  Los  Angeles,  CA  90024-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library 

from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


NON-RENEW," 

MAY  2  0  1991 
DUE  2  WKS  FROM  DATE  I 


0  1 


ECEIVED 


3  1158  00862  4164 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A    000  084  529 


